Sir, Your Denture

I was walking with my friend Jesus
On the seashore of San Vicente de la Barquera
In Cantabria, Spain
One afternoon when the beach had a red flag
And there was no lifeguard on duty.
He took out his cock and started peeing, saying:
-Look, Petronilo, look!
Here comes Neptune, king of the seas
Strong, with a black beard and long tunic
Coming to manipulate my penis
6’5″ long
With all the forms of masturbation
Trying to perform divine magic
With gods, deities, and sea monsters
Like tritons or nereids and sirens
Like Amphitrite, Salacia, and Venilia
Who are skewered by the slit on his trident
Like sardines on an inquisitorial skewer.
I answered:
-Jesus, it’s not Neptune or Amphitrite, Salacia, or Venilia
It’s your own imagination
While you were jerking off after urinating.
Afterward, we sat on a stone bench
On the seafront.
Jesus, who feels and remembers everything, said to me:
-Now I remember my maid Constancia
Who my wife Minerva hired
To do Housework.
She was Colombian and a sight to behold.
One day, I promised her extra pay
For performing cunnilingus on her.
At first, she resisted
Because I could be her father
And she my daughter
But then, thinking it over, she said yes.
-Listen, Constancia
Your pussy is very cold.
I’m going to put some Anís del Mono (Monkey Anise) on it
To warm it up.
Constancia moaned at my licks and bites.
We stopped when we felt my wife returning
From her nightly worship before an altar.
The next day
When my wife went shopping
Constancia came to me
With a small plate in her right hand.
She stood before me
And with a deep woman’s voice she said:
“Sir, here’s your denture
That you left stuck in the lips of my vagina.
I answered her saying:
-Constancia, my heart
For you I lost my teeth.
Tomorrow I’ll stick my dick in your pot
That’s what I want most
With another extra paycheck
Being careful not to leave my balls
Inside Indeed.

Matched

I am so much
like you
in that I differ
from everyone
or so I think
and thus I feel
somehow anointed
and appointed
the position of
an almost saint
and sometime
sinner on the run
from something
or someone
who might
wound me
after loving
my true self
and like you
no one else
understands this
dichotomy within
my naked anatomy
because I fear
that which I desire
the ice age
after the fire
the morning after
the one night
walk on
passion’s high wire
and thus
we both hide
because we think
we must
like love, cower
under the cover
of lust
and all this is just
another way
of saying
that for both of us
the online dating scene
has been a complete
and total bust

the language of love in a land of despair

six billion people on the planet
and our karmas intersect in a town so small
it can’t afford a marching band or a patron saint

fifty-eight million square miles of land mass on the planet
and our lives bump into on another
in a two-stall carwash off the old highway 
while I’m wearing cut-off blue jeans that expose
my emaciated old man legs and bony knees 

she’s about thirty and obviously from out of town
chestnut hair and deep green eyes
sixty-eight hundred languages more or less
spoken on this planet dominated by jabber mouths
and all I can think to say is nice day

oui she replies
a fucking Frenchie what the hell 
in this dinky town in this backward state
with nothing for miles around
but cow pastures and wheat fields and stifling heat

a hot fucking frenchie
ten feet away from me
and I dodder like my cousin Howie
who hasn’t been able to eat solid food
since Nixon took his final copter ride 

one expert says the average person will speak
over three quarters of a billion words in a lifetime
but the next gems that fall out of my mouth are nice car

can you believe it?
a hot fucking frenchie in a sleek BMW 
in a concrete car wash in dead as hell Gutmore, Kansas
and our entire relationship amounts to five words 
and that humiliating moment when the soapy mist from my spray gun
drifts into those mesmerizing eyes

Attachment

It’s a sick thought-
but it’s comforting.

I know she would agree,
if she still had a tongue.

We’ve known each other for weeks,
and we’re made for each other.

Life got too busy for us,
so I brought her home with me.

I’m sure she is glad for all I’m doing,
she doesn’t even have to get out of bed anymore.

If she still had her arms,
she’d hug me-
to comfort my trembling hands.

Those terrified eyes,
will soon be full of love.

I get my thread and needle,
and I begin working
on our attachment.

Easter ‘98

We got paid double time and a half on Easter Sunday, so I went in
Matt was there and another guy Dave

Matt had me listen to Big Black and Shellac
but The Notwist was more my speed
Dave played air guitar under his cubicle

We mocked him with Hal 9000 quotes
“I’m sorry, Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“My mind is going…I can feel it.”

I told Matt about the time I met Christy Canyon

While bowling one night, Kurt said she was giving autographs at the porn store on Aurora
so we went in

I joined the line up along the adult toys and leather
while my friends browsed nonchalantly

We could all see her

Breasts hanging over a lacy blue corset, matching panties and stockings
big hair, lots of blush

The guy behind me asked if I was a fan
I confessed
I hadn’t watched her work
He narced on me as I stepped up

I should have told him to wait his turn
Instead I flushed in shame

We, Christy and I, were both glowing red and radiant 
as her husband filmed the whole thing on camcorder

To make it right
I bought a movie and autograph
She signed “Neal, fuck me hard and deep, Love Christy, XOXO”
She hugged and kissed me
and smelled like heaven on a hot day

I beamed with requited courage
as Kurt and the other guys teased me
on the way home

At work that Easter Sunday, the one lead didn’t care what we did or talked about
except Dave couldn’t sit under his cubicle and play air guitar
We all put on our headphones and tested

Ken Griffey Jr.’s Slugfest on the Gameboy Color
The tiny people on the little backlit screen
blinded me

I didn’t know then
I was seeing the future

Saddam Hussein

Alright class,
the teacher said,
Which one of you 
can tell me about 
Saddam Hussein?
Murderer!
          Thief!
           Psychopath!
Can you tell me 
when he died?
100 years ago!
   10 years ago!
         Yesterday! 

One girl, Tawny,
raised her hand
saying her two uncles 
had a possum 
in their back yard
they named
Saddam Hussein, 
they let him stay
clearing out all 
the deer ticks,
slugs, & snails,
ensuring the safety  
of their garden. 
One night they 
pulled him off the fence,
bludgeoned him
over the head, 
boiled him in a pot,
ate him, &
used his bones 
for fertilizer. They
won first place for their 
beefsteak tomatoes
at the county fair. 

Everyone in class 
hung their heads
taking a moment 
of silence, 
feeling sorry for 
Saddam Hussein. 

Non-body Count

Saw a stranger today by the blood pool
He had that sunkissed-moontwist-killer kool
Bats surrounded; desire swings upside down
Day and night would surely fingerpaint the town
Yeah-No, no, I didn’t dare follow this time-
Paper thin soles only run on rebel rhyme
‘Cuz I’ve got my own kink of killer kool too
Don’t need another ghost talkin’ bout bitch boo

Mother Horror

Mother horror wasn’t always horrible. 
It started when I fucked that boy.
The tree was a nude model taking up arms 
And we sludged oil on copper. 

I count her age spots like she counted my baby teeth,
Bootsole-sized rosettes liver hands and neck.
Poachers band below her eyes,
Species royalty wreathed in purple storms.

Wellbutrin to fix me well. 
Mother horror’s idea
After she red hands me 
Plucking feathers from her ostrich purse.

With notebook and Bic
The good doctor strums his dick. 
I say, father was eaten by blackbirds 
The size of gas pumps

Mother horror 
And I 
Left him to cool like an apple pie 
On the windowsill 

Our pains thinned 
In a solvent of flames.

Just Doing My Job

“You have a hemorrhoid,” Geringer commented,
his finger probing my anus,
wiggling around like a burrowing worm.
It sounded like an accusation.

“I know,” I said. 
At least I’d suspected it.

“Otherwise, your prostate’s fine.”
He handed me a wad of tissues 
to mop up the lubricating jelly.
“Any travel plans for the summer?”

My annual urological exam.
I marveled at how mundane
he made it all sound.

Secrets of Erection

That tyrants, genocidaires, and serial killers
Are always erect
Is a truth as big as a temple.
That gurus, friars, and priests
Have it elevated to the Lord
Is a reality that, in victory or submission
They place demons and sins.
This is how we read and see it
In dictators who rely on their cocks
To commit truly obscene actions
That cause so much harm around the globe:
Gaza, Syria, Yemen, Afghanistan
Guantanamo, Ukraine, El Salvador.
If our ancestors
Made sacrifices to Mars, Jupiter, Saturn
To the Sun and the Moon
To Satan, “the most beautiful bastard”
Today, our rulers
Sacrifice human beings, attack them, and kill them
As if they were masterless dogs
On the altar of hatred and repression.
Thanks to their erection
The capitalists, the traffickers of dreams
And arms factories
Rejoice seeing the earth
Is flooded with their joy and spermatozoa.
-Let the whole world sing joyfully, they exclaim:
A genocidal and a fascist dictator
Have been reborn; they can be heard by their clamor
And by the loud noise they make
By braying, no, by speaking
For they are illiterate beyond salvation.
From a tree came a monkey
From a monkey creation came to us humans.
Death will never be defeated
For death attracts death
When humanity shares in its victory or defeat.
Eternal novelty! Ha, ha, ha.
Death has not lost its sting.
From his fly as he stands up, erect
This gives man new life
To be conceived in those cunts
Bounty of defeated love
And glory among asses turned
Into an expiatory sacrifice
Of lustful slavery.
That peace reigns among men
Is a great lie
For death walks beside us
Joyfully waiting
For our last ejaculation in the banquet hall
Full of murdered guests
Or killed in the back
Who celebrate the tyrant, the genocidal
The serial killer
Always erect.