BLACKHEAD

I've never met anyone
who can resist the temptation
to squeeze a blackhead.
It doesn't even have to be your own blackhead.
The ones on your boyfriend's back,
for example,
offer their own unique pleasure,
and the man who submits is a sport indeed.
(You must reward him
by showing him the spoils.)
What is it about this tiny black dot
that so invites, so demands our attention?
There it sits in its pore,
too secure, too smug.
We rise to the challenge.
Out with the evil intruder!
It may resist, but the harder it holds,
the more determined we fight,
and we will have it out at all costs,
even ugly red marks.
Finally it explodes forth.
Ah, gratification.
There is your trophy on the tip of your finger.
You must examine it.
Admire its size.
Tell me,
what else in life offers
an opportunity
for such pure and simple
triumph?


© Ellen Azorin