Sunday, April 25, 2010

Sex On The Beach, A Haiku (except for one line)

You're about to lose your
virginity to a guy
named Sven--then lights dance

across your legs, in a
flashlight way, accusatory.
There's sand in your face,

his dick retreats from
inside you, from Spring Break, all
the way to his room

where he'll brag about you,
surrounded by plastic stuff;

baseball cups caked with
dried beer foam, and you're alone.
A gun's at your head.

Two Mexican cops
want money so you give it,
and you don't loose your

go straight to being a whore,
your sandal's slipping.

You don't hate men, you
just walk back like your world's suddenly
half off to one side.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...


I bet you regret starring in that BP commercial 6 years ago.