I don’t want to hear you beg
I’m sick of beggars
If you are a man
take what you want from me
or what you can.
Even if you have me
like some woman across town
you think you love.

Look at me
Standing here with my penis
as straight as yours.
What do you think this is?
The weather cock on a rooftop?

We sneak all over town
like two damn thieves,
whiskey on our breath,
no street lights on the back roads,
just the stars above us
as ordinary as they should be.

We always have to work it out,
walk it through, talk it over,
drink and smoke our way into sodomy.
I could take you to my house
But you’re afraid the neighbors
will recognize you.
I feel thankful I don’t love you.
I won’t have to suffer you later on.

But for now I say
Jack Daniel’s,
Have you had enough, Jack Daniel’s?
Do I look like your lover yet?
Against the fogged car glass
do I look like your cross-town lover?

On August 16th, 2016, posted in: Poetry by Tags: ,