I'd kept what Ms. Streeter told me about the earlier poems and looked deeper for alternate meanings so I could do a good job interpreting it. I wanted...to win this competition for Nicki."I want to do this poem, Ms. Streeter. What am I doing wrong?" Where is the aggression? The angst? This poem cries for passion and you read it like it was e. e. cummings. I've heard the passion in you before. Where is it now?" Um ... the last time you told me that teenaged angst wouldn't cut it. I tried to get to. The dog whimpered, his bluish-red tongue going intoCharlotte's ear. His tongue was long and wet, with warm spitdribbling from around the edges. Khan nibbled on her tinyearlobe, then slashed his whip-like tongue across her neck, andnuzzled his pointed snout between her bent elbows. He sought thetender flesh of this new woman's tits, the flesh he had grown tolike on Felicia, his mistress. "Allow him to lick your tits," Felicia moaned to Charlotte,her voice tight and heavy with passion. . More

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