Sucker Punched!
It was another Friday night, and
she’s whispering sensually in his ear,
the intoxication of her high-end
perfume stirs his senses, warms his beer;
Johnny Cash is playing off the jukebox,
the slab’s atmosphere is grazed by smoke
and mindless chatter, some decent,
others indecent, remnants of his past linger;
his eyes study the eloquent of her expression
when she boasts about herself in the present,
in the past, and how she quietly shies down
when he compliments her outlook; and
he fantasizes about her perfect glossed lips
suckling his kisses each time
a laugh escapes her;
he fantasizes about the soft of her hands
strumming his body each time
she picks up her beer glass;
he fantasizes about her lustrous cherry tinted hair
fanning out over his vacant pillows each time
she curled a loose curl behind her ear;
he thought about waking up with her tomorrow when
the sun was at its highest, perhaps another night?
but even he knew she was just one of many trophies to him,
but he liked the idea of her not sitting on his shelf;
he walks into the men’s room, coins in one hand, a beer
in the other, his thoughts marooned on more than her sex,
the rare novelty machine barely clinging to the wall
toys and taunts with him because he’s bought them all before:
Pleasure Condoms, Paradise Condoms,
Fantasy Condoms, Inspiral Condoms;
Micro-Thin Condoms, Durable Condoms,
Sensitive Condoms, Extra Lubricant Condoms;
Glow-In-The-Dark Condoms, Flavored Condoms,
Scented Condoms, Tri-Colored Condoms;
feeling jaded, less fervent, he steps to the mirror and realizes
time in-a-fine-line was posing more of an insignificance to him
rather than an importance, and beneath era 31, the absolute of his
desires had been tending to seize at the slip of a coin all along;
so he shoves the loose change back into his pocket,
downs the rest of his warm beer, as he strolls past the
novelty machine he gives it a stern sucker punch- a sign
that it was time for him to dust off his trophy shelf
No comments:
Post a Comment