< ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->
< ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->
Poemission
Saving Grace
BACK
Sweet Mona,
I do owe you thanks
for one time above all.
It was in the midst
of those art school days
when my pursuit of knowledge and hedonism
didn’t quite obscure my unrequited love
which you wore as a friendship bracelet.
We were sitting in my car
in the dark
with cheap beer on our breath,
and I was confessing to you my doubts
about my sexual abilities.
I described to you two art projects
which got me high and higher,
but left me low and lower.

In Act 1, I was in my warehouse space
shooting tequila and smoking joints
with one of my video pudding wrestlers,
The Wild Thing.
I hadn’t eaten lately
and was highly fucked up
when she offered to demonstrate
her striptease skills
for a black and white surveillance camera
we were playing with.
While her dancing wouldn’t
have filled a G-string with tips,
she was thorough in her disrobing,
and didn’t mind when my camera followed
where my lips were kissing
and my fingers were probing.
Being the Wild Thing
and fucked up as well,
she flopped down on her back,
spread her legs
and told me to do her,
do her quickly.
I tore down my pants
and crawled on top of her,
but for several moments
my blitzed brain forgot her name
then couldn’t even recognize her face,
a state which frightened and confused both my heads.
Who was this damned stranger
telling me to hurry up and mount her?
Was that something I really wanted to do?
Once memory returned,
I found I needed, ah...encouragement,
yes, and reassurance,
but when I attempted to guide her hand
to my stuttering tool,
she jerked herself free
and let me know it was a one-person task at hand.
“Hurry up,” she barked,
“before I change my mind.”
I looked down at my smarter head,
which didn’t want to cooperate,
and became like-minded with it.
I fell back off her,
and listened to her bitch and grumble
as she got dressed.
Too high and stunned to understand,
I balanced the blame on my teetering consciousness
and apologized.
Part 2