Forced Talk with a Passing Fuck
I don’t know why he does this,
A new one every night,
Maybe my dick is just lazy.
There’s four of us, three guys
And an other one
In a dark, thank Christ for that,
She says her name;
Katy, Kristy, Kasey, Karen, K, K, K, K, K, K,
Something with a K, I think,
Or maybe a strong C.
She’s uninteresting like a fly swatter
And shaped just the same;
Big tits, small ass, prominent stench of an
Innocence long dead,
Noone tried to care for this one.
She’s been around and then
I don’t feel bad for her.
Not a thing she that she says has any pertinence
To our comedy, to our drama; to anything interesting
“Do you like to read?” I ask; the deal-breaker.
“I’m too busy,” I think she said;
I was staring at her cavernous cleavage
And I almost forgave him for it.
He leans back, out of her view,
Stretches his face and holds one thumb up, the other down.
My eyes go white and dead.
Thumbs down, I motion,
but he doesn’t listen.