Behind Hidden Doors and Other Sexy Places

unfinished journal entry
 
last night i smoked hash in a glass pipe
sipped cheap wine from a dixie cup
shawagunk mountains, cold air, bonfire
i wasn't listening to a word she said
all i could imagine was later
how we'll sleep together
her, rolled over on her side with her back to me
curled up, legs bent
i think they call it spooning
i like it this way
she can't see me -
i don't have to look at her
my hard-on pressed against her buttocks
i know she is tired, breathing heavily, looking for dream
then, i
pull down the back of her panties exposing her
with one hand gently lift a cheek and guide myself into her vagina
this is what i've waited all day for...why i went to the party
she says "i love you" during climax
again i ignore her
and think only of myself
and to the moment that i will make my retreat

SO   so

addiction is torture but i can still enjoy the orchards in autumn and life is preparation for funeral but i can still taste the flavor of the ghetto. because i had once been as handsome as poetry itself

 
Trailer Trash Lovers
 
trailers
all in rows
browns pinks greens
trees and grass
parched yellow
sloppy stone
grey gardens
he could tell what they were into
each trailer
he walked past
each had
each and every one
one corner
of one shade
slightly
tilted up
he imagined a single eye
in each
each and every one
kept metals in piles
copper aluminum brass
behind rusted
cars
covered in sun
beaten and wind
torn
blue tarps
they stopped
knocked
on the door
the door
with tape across the cracks
on the window
the door
opened
they talked fast
rushed them in
eyes darted
shut
the door
behind them
jaws grinded tight
an uncalm
in each
each and every one
seemed an "untrustworthy" type
dirty and unstable
unsure
insecure
pacing and looking
yet he trusted
still
even in the face
of the monster itself
because this
was his first trip to vegas
the one he remembers most
out of
each and every one
he held the broken bulb
somewhat afraid
penny held the lighter
to the glass
crystal smoke consumed the sphere
he gave chase
with the red straw
sucking like he were younger
like
it were the last drop of milkshake
naive and young
though he'd
already tried
marijuana,cocaine, pcp,acid, shrooms and crack
but this
POP
his first time on meth
was better than
each
each and every one

EVENING WITH LILLY
 
it ought to be close to leaving time for Lilly
because i'm out of ciggerettes
and she already drank all the beer she could piss
should have been more wise
went generic
"you put that money away, it's on me."
how naive
as accurate as any man be
think we know every element
think if we buy them these things
they'll meet our every requirment
think we're wrong
because
now her breath stinks
and shes acting like an imbecile
now i'm uninterested
and broke
and she is walking out the door
without me ever so much as copping a feel

 
MRS. DUNLOP
 
my friend's
mom was small
frail
skinny yellow skin
she drank
vodka
from early morning glass
so by night's
end
i would be
horrible names
i would be
staring into spitting lips
and red eyes
heeled slipper type
shoes
fell hard on the tile floor
as i'd be escorted
to and through
the front door
a slave
to the drink
she didn't know any better
so each day i return
and show her
respect

Editorial Comment:  At first I thought all we have here is drug induced mania; but, on closer examination, I fooled myself into thinking I actually like this "kid" (assuming he is a young fellow is a fair assumtion since I'm 60 plus and raising too old in a hurry).  There is a youthfull merry spirit here, deluded with itself, but fun.  To add to the insanity I decided to include two of my own youthful fantasies below.  After all poetry is to be fun also.