Conception
Story
On
the third floor Joe in the bathroom jerks off
to
gay porn. My sister and her partner in bed
warm
up. A row house in Philly, three-story
attached,
I sit on the first floor with Mom
we
make small talk. She wonders why everyone
went
to bed so early. I imagine Joe handing
Louise
the still warm cup, her with the turkey
baster,
how they will maneuver to insert
the
sperm at climax, the perfect condition
for
insemination, my sister tells me. Still
surprised
at her change of heart to carry
a
child, this first attempt of many. Mom’s
continual
delusion that Jill and Joe will
marry—two
lawyers—she only tolerates
Louise.
A baby will shift our dying family.
Mom
stares at the TV with blank eyes,
arthritic,
stranded on the first floor.
I
kiss her goodnight, go one flight up,
hang
with Joe who’s tired, sitting
with
his thoughts about becoming
a
father.
Country Boy
I want to slide up to
you
make all your big
city fears come true
country boy, you
watch your wallet so careful
stand over us,
protect your turf
in cowboy boots, all
big and tall.
a He man, I want to
wrap you round my finger
slip your long thin
dick inside me
feel you give in to
softness
my warm vagina a cave
that sucks
men out of themselves.
Come here big boy,
dance with me
come across the
mountains to my turf
where I stand sexy in
my dark city bar
wait for you,
lumberjack, your wife at home
a couple of kids, why
do you stop at this bar,
searching for
something no doubt
you travel old growth
back hill roads to city
afraid work will dry
up
all these damn
environmentalists.
Honey come stand by
my tree
let your worries
dissolve
spend one night your
guard down
a cheap thrill, and
yes baby
spill all your big
city backwater
country fears into my
arms, I’ll eat them up
spit them out,
because I’ve been on both sides
of the track, and
Honey, I want to spew
my love over you,
swing off chandeliers,
take you for a ride
across my moon highway
for only one
night.
