The First Time

The room was green,
the smell of incense
covered my hands,
which were holding
a nudie magazine.

I stole it.

From a dumpster.

There was mold
on the pages,
and women,
naked and real,
or paper,
exposing their most precious
parts
to me.

I worked at it,
sweat began to appear,
I worked and worked,
until,
I felt
very
strange.

I felt like I was
dying,
like my soul was
elevating.

Pools of white
shot out
of my floating
wiener
and mixed in
with the mold.

I was finally
at peace.

Then,
reality
struck.

My mom called out for me.

Dinner was ready.

I didn't even know
how to clean up
the mess.

Sunday Funday

It was early.

We were all hungover.

The only cure:
hair of the dog.

Mimosas to be exact.

We went through pitchers.

I don't remember
past noon.

Here's what I've been told-

I was stumbling
downtown,
climbing the streetlights,
scaring the sober and innocent
with threats of
beheadings and castrations.

I was a monster.

Allegedly.

I eventually made it
to my friend's house.

I was talking
nonsense,
just being a drunken fool.

I decided to leave.

I had to pee.

Her neighbors stopped me
for a nice friendly
chat.

I still had to pee.

I did so
in my pants
right in the middle
of our conversation
and didn't stop
till
I was finished.

I acted as if nothing was happening.

It was.

They were appalled.

I ran off.

To where?

I don't remember.

I just recall
waking up,
in my cousin's room,
and my friend
came up
and we laughed
and watched
It's Always Sunny.

Because it always is
on Sunday
Funday.

The Songs of a Sad Child

I've been dreaming
of her
since
I was a boy.

I'd imagine her
cooking me food,
naked.

I'd create fantasies
of her
licking my balls
and massaging my back
after a hard day's work.

I'd dream every day
of her
and search and search
and search.

I'd find girls
and I'd cry and listen to
sad, sad songs
every time
some young slut
broke my pathetic heart.

 But....

I'd also be
excited
because I knew
she was getting
closer.

I could feel
her
in my heart.

Every step of my life.

I knew
I was with her
this past weekend.

We've been together
for three years now.

We've gone through
many, many
sad and
bad
and some of the best moments
of our lives
together.

This time,
we were in
San Francisco,
staying in a cheap motel room,
right above a
cheap strip club.

She cried
just like I dreamed
when I was a boy.

I put my arms around her
exactly
like I remembered
I would.

I knew
right then,
she was
the woman
of my dreams.

I smiled
and it seemed
like an odd time
to do so.

She just didn't know.

I knew.

I could see
the future
just like
when I was young.

We fought
again
later,
but I didn't seem
to mind
as much as I
used to.

I knew
that every fight
we've fought
has brought us
closer
to our dream:

Our marriage.

It's all I've ever dreamed about
since I was listening
to those
sad, sad songs.