Tuesday afternoon came around. We had planned on meeting up for lunch at Rosita’s. They have the best tacos on the island. The place was beat up. It looked like it was constructed entirely of driftwood and old metal signs. I ordered the Key West Amber. The barkeep wore peach shorts and a denim shirt buttoned low over a nice, tight tank.
“I’ll have a water, no lemon please.” The sound of her voice broke the love spell.
“Sorry, I was…uh…”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“How are you?”
“I’m good. It has been a rough start to the week, but it’s early and we’ll rebound.”
“I love that about you.”
“How you always find hope in the situation.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“No, I get it. I just don’t naturally see it.”
“Are you guys ready?” The barkeep asked.
“I’m going to have the taco plate.” Alice’s voice was overly cheery, bordering on patronizing.
“Make that two, please.” I resisted looking at the barkeep, instead keeping my eyes on the menu. I folded it, handing it to her without ever looking up. I’m sure it was awkward for everyone.
“What’s your name, dear?” Alice asked the barkeep.
“Oh, of course it is. ”
I eat her peach, like it was a screaming bed
Rob lathered her pink butt, like I said
She urges me to lick the bare breasts, or no head
They want the mist under the dress, and she is red
I cry, but think those rose petals are like a knife
My woman moans as we fall with spring through life
Smell sweet honey like a purple forest o’ eggs
He sees my finger smear next to the smooth hot leg
Watching two girls waxin’ & milkin’ without you
The gorgeous goddess needs his languid tongue to be true
Deliriously drunk & a repulsive moment recalls an ugly day
I felt the beauty whispering lust, wanting to play
Sweat leaves my apparatus juicy and shiny, always beating it away
Frantic spray floods the luscious garden from behind
Trying to swim beneath a language o’ an elaborate mind
Winter crushes drool over lovely eyes
On top, producing no sleep as we lie
Together, eternity is an essential chain
Manipulating me through bitter rain
Mothers can ask to stop, but still get to blow
I pound your fluff and then must go
Getting shot in some hair is easy when you are not above
Shadows o’ their enormous size is what you vision and love
*Author’s Note: I feel I should explain this mess. It was written in college on a buddy’s fridge with the non-x-rated magnetic poetry. It is horribly juvenile and I love it all the more for that reason.
Some boys need Spanish Fly by the vial
Or maybe to lubricate women with whiskey
I’ve been lucky with Dr. Pepper & the scent of Dial
A little charm for my lady to get a little frisky
“From 30 feet away she looked like a lot of class. From 10 feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from 30 feet away.”
― Raymond Chandler, The High Window
Does life have you
Well, naked jumping jacks
Are the only thing to do
*originally posted on former blog
Her cover-up cannot hide
The alluring beauty from my eyes
Watching her slowly stroll along the beach
With each step, another moment out of reach
Dreams of our last encounter
I routinely did mount her
She delightfully squirmed in containment
When I made her my edible arrangement
“Since I don’t smoke, I decided to grow a mustache – it is better for the health.
However, I always carried a jewel-studded cigarette case in which, instead of tobacco, were carefully placed several mustaches, Adolphe Menjou style. I offered them politely to my friends: “Mustache? Mustache? Mustache?”
Nobody dared to touch them. This was my test regarding the sacred aspect of mustaches.”
― Salvador Dalí, Dalí’s Mustache
“I’ve got quarters in my loafers, trying to fight inflation.”
– Jimmy Buffett, We Are The People Our Parents Warned Us About
“Solitude is fine but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine.”
― Honoré de Balzac