Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Escorts At The Bar

Two curvy young Puerto Rican escorts
asked if i wanted a good time
while i was at the hotel bar.

i want to ask what they think
is a good time.
if they think their lives
are a good time.
if that's what they tell their
families they do for a living.

selling good times,
but i simply shake my head
and they move on to
the next sucker.

it takes three hits,
but finally they get a bite
and two hours later
i pass them as they
get off the elevator.

laughing about the guys
small dick.
love is cruel.
especially when it costs.


Strangers At the Bar

that was a mistake
and she knew it,
an error in judgment
in sharing so soon
how she felt

about me, especially
as i took her across
my knee kicking
and screaming and smacked
her ass red

with embarrassment as
she bit her lip and
i slid my hand up her
skirt fingering and
touching a point

of no return when
you share those feelings
and don't know what
to expect in return
and all i could

think about was why
does she moan when i
smack, cry when i finger,
and tell me she loves me
when i buy her a drink.


A Short One

even in perfect health
i thought of it
so why is it so shocking
as i lay here falling apart
rotting that I still think
of it?
what else is there?
Jesus Christ, just answer me that,
what else is there really?
the end?


A Mouth Like That

she likes to have her ass spanked
hard and often and it
leaves her cheeks bright red
like a fresh strawberry

but she cries when i stop
or offer to kiss it to
make it better

she likes to scream so loud when we
fuck and sweat and cuss
at one another with the lights off
two strangers full of lust

and anger and 'Jesus Christ just
shut up and fuck me harder'
so i spin her around

to do all things she loves
fuck and spank

because with a mouth like that
what else is it good for,
except maybe to


A Late Night Touch

i touch you late at night
when you're sleeping,
stroking your hair, your back,
the shape of your ass...

'that's so creepy,' she said
crushing all the fondness that
was in the air, or in that
memory for me.

silly how a person’s natural
reaction can crush another.
especially when love is involved,
or sex, or lust, or the simple fact

that you offer a moment of weakness
to her and she smashes it
into the stands like Big Mac
taking a fastball deep.

for that brief moment as
i lay there in the darkness
happy she can't see my wounded face,
i think of grabbing the bat

under the bed
and really touching her as she sleeps.


a fool's joke

lost another scarred soul today
another woman in my life
who found solace in drugs,
pain and abusive men.

lost another one today and the
second this year, and i can't
figure out why my scarred soul
remains while theirs is lost.

why do i continue to struggle on
with my anguish while their light
has blown out?

lost, but still breathing to scar
some more as they are gone forever,
a fool’s joke to be heard no more.