Wednesday, December 9, 2009
According to Best American Erotica
is me with an ache and you with a rod
is her with a cunt and him with a cock
is him with whimpering ass and her with solid strap-on
A word is defined by the world it exists in.
Full is spite inside respite.
Full is carey inside precarious.
Forgive me if that’s not a good example its just
Carey, I love you and here you are
drooling on an amtrak pillow-
a ball on the broken chair
I read erotic stories and lick your ear
make me full. No,
you sleep like streetlights in a power outage.
There is no turning you on.
Out the window, Salt Lake City is lit up.
Are those young mormon girls with untouched breasts
and urgent swellings staring out,
like me, aching to feel something inside?
Holy Holy Holy Holy Holy they pray
This is my prayer
I have ten fingers toes a nice soft mouth
Two eyeballs one pair of glasses enough food for three
Sandwiches a bottle of wine two parents one grandma who loves me
A way with words and lots of luck and I am thank god not
From a god-fearing family who hates that I lick pussy
Or who filled me up with dirty things before I even knew
I had a space inside
Or missing any limbs
I have so many limbs in fact that I want to jump up and kiss
All these sleeping strangers, the girl drinking water, the old man moaning,
The baby who finally stopped crying,
I run my fingers through your travel-greasy Mohawk, wondering if you have wet dreams. Wondering if this need is shallow.
Wondering if all that I have that isn’t you hard in my hole
Is enough to be the whole.
Full is hole inside whole.