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;

commemorative

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

virginity--you

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.