Sweet-tempered currents
Dragging fingers lightly
Over the arched back
Of driftwood and broken shells
On the beach
At San German
Sending shivering ripples
Up the waterline.
Apothecary glass sky
In a magnificent contrast
Brushing the hair
Of tall feathery sun-bleached grains
On acres of secreted farmland
Stumbled upon by chance
On a hike
Deep within
Hunterdon County.
An instinctual
Sweep of the hand
Under the soft pale of pillow
Early in the morning
To reveal
The azure
Of lace panties
From a lover
Hidden there
Like a pearl
Just below the surface
Of a dark lagoon
Surrounded by Mangroves.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
There’s Beauty in Age
Today
I saw an old queen
Walking the streets of my town
Out of drag
In a black tank blouse
Low waist jeans
And sandals.
His waist was kind of pastey white doughy
And I thought it odd
That his jeans were cropped in a ‘V’
Cauliflowered flesh blooming
Right above his pelvis
As I drove past.
I glided by slowly
As anyone would
And noticed
He was wearing
A black thong
Hiked up high above his hips
Pinching that Pillsbury flesh.
I wanted to take a picture of him
So I drove around the block.
Then I realized.
I’m not so far behind him.
Twenty years.
People are gonna think I’m odd
For sure.
I might not be wearing 'V' cut jeans
Or a thong
Or a blouse even
But I will be an odd one to behold
When I’m trying to hold it together
With what I got
Before I kick in
The door of death.
No cameras please.
I saw an old queen
Walking the streets of my town
Out of drag
In a black tank blouse
Low waist jeans
And sandals.
His waist was kind of pastey white doughy
And I thought it odd
That his jeans were cropped in a ‘V’
Cauliflowered flesh blooming
Right above his pelvis
As I drove past.
I glided by slowly
As anyone would
And noticed
He was wearing
A black thong
Hiked up high above his hips
Pinching that Pillsbury flesh.
I wanted to take a picture of him
So I drove around the block.
Then I realized.
I’m not so far behind him.
Twenty years.
People are gonna think I’m odd
For sure.
I might not be wearing 'V' cut jeans
Or a thong
Or a blouse even
But I will be an odd one to behold
When I’m trying to hold it together
With what I got
Before I kick in
The door of death.
No cameras please.
Things Get Broken
You had to leave.
And the bread
Got moldy.
Things went awry.
Shit went inexplicably crazy.
The cream cheese went bad
And the cereal went stale.
The dishwasher died first.
Then the fridge.
A fucking $4,000 refrigerator
And I spent $1,200 getting it fixed.
I had no choice.
I still wash dishes by hand
Two years later.
The dishwasher sits there
Like a skeleton
Amongst many.
The garden became overgrown.
I couldn’t do it all.
The trees that I questioned you about
When you were planting them
Have grown huge
And I’m going to have to take a
Godamn chainsaw to them
Because they’re overshadowing
The rest of the garden and killing everything.
The bamboo that you HAD to plant
Has got the neighbors really pissed off
Because they’re dealing with a foe
With hacksaws
Clippers
And shovels
I can hear them cursing
Everytime they are in their backyards.
The dogs have fleas
And get walked once a day.
I’m losing my hair
And getting rashes on my skin
Trying to save this house.
My body doesn’t like the stress.
My car just got swiped.
Hit and run.
Took out the mirror
And damaged the door panel
And front fender.
When does it end?
The washer just died.
I’m doing laundry at the laundromat.
$2.50 a wash.
$2.00 to dry.
I have a washer and dryer
Just waiting to be exchanged
For something that works.
But I can’t afford it.
I work.
I work, I work, I work.
I just need something to fucking work
Around here
Besides me.
It’s 101 degrees out today.
The air conditioner in my car
Is blowing hot air.
I’m hoping it just needs to be juiced.
The digital thermometer in the car
Flashes 101 degrees.
It’s right there in front of me.
The damn thing works.
And the bread
Got moldy.
Things went awry.
Shit went inexplicably crazy.
The cream cheese went bad
And the cereal went stale.
The dishwasher died first.
Then the fridge.
A fucking $4,000 refrigerator
And I spent $1,200 getting it fixed.
I had no choice.
I still wash dishes by hand
Two years later.
The dishwasher sits there
Like a skeleton
Amongst many.
The garden became overgrown.
I couldn’t do it all.
The trees that I questioned you about
When you were planting them
Have grown huge
And I’m going to have to take a
Godamn chainsaw to them
Because they’re overshadowing
The rest of the garden and killing everything.
The bamboo that you HAD to plant
Has got the neighbors really pissed off
Because they’re dealing with a foe
With hacksaws
Clippers
And shovels
I can hear them cursing
Everytime they are in their backyards.
The dogs have fleas
And get walked once a day.
I’m losing my hair
And getting rashes on my skin
Trying to save this house.
My body doesn’t like the stress.
My car just got swiped.
Hit and run.
Took out the mirror
And damaged the door panel
And front fender.
When does it end?
The washer just died.
I’m doing laundry at the laundromat.
$2.50 a wash.
$2.00 to dry.
I have a washer and dryer
Just waiting to be exchanged
For something that works.
But I can’t afford it.
I work.
I work, I work, I work.
I just need something to fucking work
Around here
Besides me.
It’s 101 degrees out today.
The air conditioner in my car
Is blowing hot air.
I’m hoping it just needs to be juiced.
The digital thermometer in the car
Flashes 101 degrees.
It’s right there in front of me.
The damn thing works.
A Date With The Devil’s Daughters
I’d never been out with triplets before.
First time for everything.
We were all getting cozy
In one of the small booths
In the VIP section
Of ‘Heads And Tails’
A schlock-glitzy strip club
Overlooking the river
At the edge of the city.
It looked like Liberace lived here
Lights and sparkling reflective things everywhere
And with the amount of perfume
Hanging in the air
It smelled like it too.
It was the girls’ idea...
To come here.
They all shouted out in unison
When I asked them what they wanted to do.
“Strip Club!”
They had the devil in their eyes...
Genetics, I suppose.
They picked ‘Heads And Tails’
Because it had the word ‘Tails’ in it
And this got them crazy.
I had to explain to them
That they probably wouldn’t see
‘That kind of tail’ here.
Everywhere we went
The three of them turned heads
Sucking the souls out of men that still had them
Like soda through a straw
From the bottom of a cup.
I watched it happen...
Men crumpling to the sidewalk.
They were virtually identical in appearance
And they used that to their advantage
Playing impish jokes on myself
Or others...
Especially in the dark erotic glow of the gentleman’s club.
They were responsible for getting us
Into the VIP.
They were hot.
Not just temperature wise...
The tattooed stallion bouncer
Turned into boy putty
Under their hard gaze
Immediately ushering us to our booth
Forgetting speech and vocabulary
And good grammar
Barely uttering a cohesive word...
One of them,
Calliope I think,
Put her fingers up to the side of his mouth
Catching some drool forming
And brought it down
Wiping it on his shirt
In one graceful sweep.
A few minutes later
A dark wooden box
Was brought to the table.
The girls were squirming in their seats excitedly
Awash in neon and pulsing lasers.
An exotic Suicide Girl
In flourescent pink and orange lingerie with five inch patent pumps
And electrical tape pasties over her nipples
Opened the box
And lifted out a crystal bottle of
Gran Patron Burdeos
From the velvet interior
For the girls to approve.
The daughters clapped adoringly
Showing big smiles
And perfectly white teeth.
I felt multiple hands squeezing my thighs.
The waitress opened the bottle using the special corkscrew provided
And filled four leaded shot glasses
With the caramel brew.
“To us!”
They cheered.
“To ‘REAL’ beautiful tails.”
I said
Winking.
Our glasses clinked.
The girls were seasoned
And sipped the agave.
“Mmmmmmmmssss...”
Went around the table.
I flirted with them each and all...
Calliope, Sanibel and Anastasia
Though she liked to be called
“Little Tijuana”
When her father wasn’t around.
She was probably the biggest trouble maker
Of the three.
The tequila drew shorter
The booth got smaller.
Dark shadowed patrons sent drinks over
To our table.
Goth girl got cozy next to Sanibel.
Things were really heating up.
The girls wanted to dance
So the five of us swayed over to the stage
The whites of one hundred pairs of eyes following us.
They pulled me up into the thumping dance beat
And flashing light show
Squirming against me
Writhing
Twisting
Rubbing...
Other strippers came out
And joined our troupe.
The heat from the lights
Warmed the smell of baby oil
Perfume
And female skin.
People were cheering
Throwing money on stage
As small pieces of clothing came off
And body parts were exposed
Three tails slipping in and out of vision.
Strong joints were passed around.
Good Advice...
And it looked like a fog machine
Had been triggered on stage
As bodies moved to the
Bumpty-bump-bump-bump...
The DJ played good music.
A mix of deep house, hip hop, latin and funk.
More and more people came up on stage
To join the party
Shaking their asses
Grinding
Getting down.
Later
The triplets pulled my head down simultaneously
And whispered into my ears at once
“Baby, we wanna go to the next thing!”
They led me through the crowd
Grabbing Suicide Girl on the way.
Back at the booth
As the girls got their stuff together
I was treated to the largest bill I had ever incurred in my life.
I got dizzy looking at it
Close to passing out.
“Don’t worry baby, it’s gonna be worth it! We’ve got plans for you!”
Little Tijuana said
“Let’s pay the check and get out of here!”
I handed our newest table girl my card
Keeping my fingers crossed
As I watched her naked ass strut away.
I knew my fate was sealed hours earlier
As the Devil firmly took my hand
And pulled me in close to him
Commanding me to
“Show his girls a good time”.
The table girl returned with my card
And a receipt to sign.
I knew what I was doing.
With little hesitation
I looked at those ravishing, mischievious girls smiling
As pen touched paper
And proposed
“Cheers!”
“To ‘REAL’ beautiful tails!”
First time for everything.
We were all getting cozy
In one of the small booths
In the VIP section
Of ‘Heads And Tails’
A schlock-glitzy strip club
Overlooking the river
At the edge of the city.
It looked like Liberace lived here
Lights and sparkling reflective things everywhere
And with the amount of perfume
Hanging in the air
It smelled like it too.
It was the girls’ idea...
To come here.
They all shouted out in unison
When I asked them what they wanted to do.
“Strip Club!”
They had the devil in their eyes...
Genetics, I suppose.
They picked ‘Heads And Tails’
Because it had the word ‘Tails’ in it
And this got them crazy.
I had to explain to them
That they probably wouldn’t see
‘That kind of tail’ here.
Everywhere we went
The three of them turned heads
Sucking the souls out of men that still had them
Like soda through a straw
From the bottom of a cup.
I watched it happen...
Men crumpling to the sidewalk.
They were virtually identical in appearance
And they used that to their advantage
Playing impish jokes on myself
Or others...
Especially in the dark erotic glow of the gentleman’s club.
They were responsible for getting us
Into the VIP.
They were hot.
Not just temperature wise...
The tattooed stallion bouncer
Turned into boy putty
Under their hard gaze
Immediately ushering us to our booth
Forgetting speech and vocabulary
And good grammar
Barely uttering a cohesive word...
One of them,
Calliope I think,
Put her fingers up to the side of his mouth
Catching some drool forming
And brought it down
Wiping it on his shirt
In one graceful sweep.
A few minutes later
A dark wooden box
Was brought to the table.
The girls were squirming in their seats excitedly
Awash in neon and pulsing lasers.
An exotic Suicide Girl
In flourescent pink and orange lingerie with five inch patent pumps
And electrical tape pasties over her nipples
Opened the box
And lifted out a crystal bottle of
Gran Patron Burdeos
From the velvet interior
For the girls to approve.
The daughters clapped adoringly
Showing big smiles
And perfectly white teeth.
I felt multiple hands squeezing my thighs.
The waitress opened the bottle using the special corkscrew provided
And filled four leaded shot glasses
With the caramel brew.
“To us!”
They cheered.
“To ‘REAL’ beautiful tails.”
I said
Winking.
Our glasses clinked.
The girls were seasoned
And sipped the agave.
“Mmmmmmmmssss...”
Went around the table.
I flirted with them each and all...
Calliope, Sanibel and Anastasia
Though she liked to be called
“Little Tijuana”
When her father wasn’t around.
She was probably the biggest trouble maker
Of the three.
The tequila drew shorter
The booth got smaller.
Dark shadowed patrons sent drinks over
To our table.
Goth girl got cozy next to Sanibel.
Things were really heating up.
The girls wanted to dance
So the five of us swayed over to the stage
The whites of one hundred pairs of eyes following us.
They pulled me up into the thumping dance beat
And flashing light show
Squirming against me
Writhing
Twisting
Rubbing...
Other strippers came out
And joined our troupe.
The heat from the lights
Warmed the smell of baby oil
Perfume
And female skin.
People were cheering
Throwing money on stage
As small pieces of clothing came off
And body parts were exposed
Three tails slipping in and out of vision.
Strong joints were passed around.
Good Advice...
And it looked like a fog machine
Had been triggered on stage
As bodies moved to the
Bumpty-bump-bump-bump...
The DJ played good music.
A mix of deep house, hip hop, latin and funk.
More and more people came up on stage
To join the party
Shaking their asses
Grinding
Getting down.
Later
The triplets pulled my head down simultaneously
And whispered into my ears at once
“Baby, we wanna go to the next thing!”
They led me through the crowd
Grabbing Suicide Girl on the way.
Back at the booth
As the girls got their stuff together
I was treated to the largest bill I had ever incurred in my life.
I got dizzy looking at it
Close to passing out.
“Don’t worry baby, it’s gonna be worth it! We’ve got plans for you!”
Little Tijuana said
“Let’s pay the check and get out of here!”
I handed our newest table girl my card
Keeping my fingers crossed
As I watched her naked ass strut away.
I knew my fate was sealed hours earlier
As the Devil firmly took my hand
And pulled me in close to him
Commanding me to
“Show his girls a good time”.
The table girl returned with my card
And a receipt to sign.
I knew what I was doing.
With little hesitation
I looked at those ravishing, mischievious girls smiling
As pen touched paper
And proposed
“Cheers!”
“To ‘REAL’ beautiful tails!”
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Dave
“Dave...”
“Put down the gun.”
“I mean really.”
“Put down the fuckin’ gun!”
“You’re fucking high!”
“Just put the fuckin’ gun down!”
He’s waving it all over the place.
I don’t know whether it’s loaded
Or not...
Which is making me nervous.
That
And the fact
That Dave is lit out of his mind.
I’ve been around guns.
They’ve always made me edgey.
Everybody seems trigger happy.
High or not.
Put a gun in their hand
And they’re GOD
But they get all dopey
And low level stupid
About it.
Like now.
I’m pleading with a first blood Indian
To put down a fucking gun
And he’s waving a quite possibly loaded one
Around in the swampy night air.
“Dave...”
“Put the gun away.”
“I’m not amused by this shit!”
“I don’t know where in hell that gun has been!”
I just know
That he is out of his mind
At this moment
And the bullets
If there are any
Will fall
Like dice
At a crap table.
And I never said
“Please”.
“Put down the gun.”
“I mean really.”
“Put down the fuckin’ gun!”
“You’re fucking high!”
“Just put the fuckin’ gun down!”
He’s waving it all over the place.
I don’t know whether it’s loaded
Or not...
Which is making me nervous.
That
And the fact
That Dave is lit out of his mind.
I’ve been around guns.
They’ve always made me edgey.
Everybody seems trigger happy.
High or not.
Put a gun in their hand
And they’re GOD
But they get all dopey
And low level stupid
About it.
Like now.
I’m pleading with a first blood Indian
To put down a fucking gun
And he’s waving a quite possibly loaded one
Around in the swampy night air.
“Dave...”
“Put the gun away.”
“I’m not amused by this shit!”
“I don’t know where in hell that gun has been!”
I just know
That he is out of his mind
At this moment
And the bullets
If there are any
Will fall
Like dice
At a crap table.
And I never said
“Please”.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Corner Store
In the past
I was a young boy
With his face pressed up
Against the corner candy store window.
They made egg creams
And malted milk shakes there.
The real deal.
You could smell the magic of the place
Escaping out the front door.
Chocolate
Strawberries
Vanilla
Oranges and Cream.
They had Spider Man and Fantastic Four comics
In the front windows
Covers fading in the strong sun
Along with all of the dime store candies that they sold.
My face was pressed up against the thick window
Drool spittling out...
I could smell the fresh newsprint
That those comics were printed on.
I could smell the chocolate
The Sourballs, Fire Hots, Jawbreakers
And licorice
Of old time Dutch pipes
And red strawberry string shoe laces.
I am there
With my face pressed up against the window
Fogging up the clean glass with
Noseprints
Fingerprints
And otherwise
As you lie before me
Legs up high
Me in bewilderment
At your magic and beauty.
Of you exposed
Fragrant of mangoes
Citrus
Vanilla
And flesh.
Envious of the superpowers
And the sweetness of nickel dimestore candy
Of these things
Much greater than myself
And my past.
I was a young boy
With his face pressed up
Against the corner candy store window.
They made egg creams
And malted milk shakes there.
The real deal.
You could smell the magic of the place
Escaping out the front door.
Chocolate
Strawberries
Vanilla
Oranges and Cream.
They had Spider Man and Fantastic Four comics
In the front windows
Covers fading in the strong sun
Along with all of the dime store candies that they sold.
My face was pressed up against the thick window
Drool spittling out...
I could smell the fresh newsprint
That those comics were printed on.
I could smell the chocolate
The Sourballs, Fire Hots, Jawbreakers
And licorice
Of old time Dutch pipes
And red strawberry string shoe laces.
I am there
With my face pressed up against the window
Fogging up the clean glass with
Noseprints
Fingerprints
And otherwise
As you lie before me
Legs up high
Me in bewilderment
At your magic and beauty.
Of you exposed
Fragrant of mangoes
Citrus
Vanilla
And flesh.
Envious of the superpowers
And the sweetness of nickel dimestore candy
Of these things
Much greater than myself
And my past.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Chocolate Bar And Lube
We left my house
This morning
Because I had to go to work.
That was the only reason
Or we’d still be in bed.
It was after we fucked again
And took a shower
Soaping each other
Sea-legs like jello.
We were packing bags
And getting dressed
When I asked if you wanted
To take your lube.
You told me
That we should leave it here
For when you come back
And I wasn’t going to argue
With that.
I took you for coffee
In one of the last rains of winter
And the coffee was warm and good
We smiled laughing
Hot breath balmy
Over paper cups.
Our parting was timed impeccably
As we got into our separate cars.
I was only two minutes late.
When I returned home from work
I found your chocolate bar
On top of my dresser.
There were several pieces missing
That you had fed us
During our trysts
Otherwise
The wrapper was pristine
Announcing
Chilli Peppers and Cherries
In Dark Chocolate.
I was tempted.
I broke off a small piece
Placing it in my mouth.
The last three days came
Rushing back
Melting
A mix of fire and milky sweetness.
I rubbed the bite marks
You left deep in my chest
Bruised blue topographic trophies
And hobbled over on shakey legs
Putting the bar of chocolate
In the closet
Next to the lube
Safe for your return.
I shut the door
While still chewing on a long-lasting
Bit of cherry.
The flavor was forward
Tart
And intense.
This morning
Because I had to go to work.
That was the only reason
Or we’d still be in bed.
It was after we fucked again
And took a shower
Soaping each other
Sea-legs like jello.
We were packing bags
And getting dressed
When I asked if you wanted
To take your lube.
You told me
That we should leave it here
For when you come back
And I wasn’t going to argue
With that.
I took you for coffee
In one of the last rains of winter
And the coffee was warm and good
We smiled laughing
Hot breath balmy
Over paper cups.
Our parting was timed impeccably
As we got into our separate cars.
I was only two minutes late.
When I returned home from work
I found your chocolate bar
On top of my dresser.
There were several pieces missing
That you had fed us
During our trysts
Otherwise
The wrapper was pristine
Announcing
Chilli Peppers and Cherries
In Dark Chocolate.
I was tempted.
I broke off a small piece
Placing it in my mouth.
The last three days came
Rushing back
Melting
A mix of fire and milky sweetness.
I rubbed the bite marks
You left deep in my chest
Bruised blue topographic trophies
And hobbled over on shakey legs
Putting the bar of chocolate
In the closet
Next to the lube
Safe for your return.
I shut the door
While still chewing on a long-lasting
Bit of cherry.
The flavor was forward
Tart
And intense.
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