Thursday, April 18, 2013

Poem: "A Position of Defeat 18"


sunday like any other day of the week
begins the work of filling up the time
the hours integral empty sublime
present so many unravished physiques

a white boy fifteen or sixteen of age
honey for hair runs past in tennis shorts
i unzip my jeans and take out my cock
behind the new york times and turn a page

minutes later his older brother shows
bulging a navy blue college sweatshirt
his rowboat legs pumping along the dirt
my dick hardens unbearably below

he comes again this time pushing a stroller
in front of him as he runs after his youth
thicker in the waist longer in the tooth
and jogging back and forth as if bipolar

the final figures are predictable
the crumpled suit the shaky gouty walk
i close my eyes and whack my wilting cock
the spirit willing but the flesh unable

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