When the urgent message came through our walkies
That a strange man had exposed himself in the Juniors department
I knew that it couldn’t have been Larry
I like to imagine that he would’ve turned his nose up
At such mundane depravity
We did always alert our jewelry associate of his presence
Even though she was the only one who harbored a fondness for him
If she wasn’t whisked away in time
Larry could be found engaged in polite conversation with her
Biceps the size of bowling balls
Dangling in front of the Rolex case

My first encounter with Larry was heard, not seen
He squeaked behind me as I folded denim
His left arm had rubbed up against a mannequin
He stopped to pose for himself in front of a pillar mirror
Hasselhoff, Ahnuld, Larry
I wish he had been there that day, in the Juniors department
Then we all could have seen that muscle put in some work
Of all the questions to ask, and there were many
The one that burned me up the most…
Did he use a hammer pump or his own lungs?
I feel like I already know the answer