Belly
This belly
Would rather be rubbing up against you
Than a stairmaster
This belly
Means I would rather sit back and watch a porno
Than run around the block in minus 30
This belly means
I would rather lick chocolate sauce off of your cock
Than go on a sugar-free diet
The hair on this belly
Means I forego the $70 waxing
And instead invite you to trace your fingers in it and see where
the trail leads
This belly
Doesn't look great in tight designer shirts
But that's ok, because I would rather die than give a striptease
in Abercrombie & Fitch
This belly is symbolic
Of the fact that I do not spend my money on protein shakes
Instead, I'm saving up for that butt plug I've been eyeing
This belly is being filled
With nuts & berries, storing up energy in hibernation
So that we can fuck like beasts
Specters and Exits
Walking past the chained up skeletons
Roller coasters and ferris wheels
Static beneath the snow
The freak show locked down with iron teeth for winter
I tried to imagine you there
Tried to conjure up the summer
You walking between the booths
Eating sugar foods and deep fried carny fare
Sauntering past the watchful eyes of neon bulbs
The ring toss clattering behind you
Your head covered in a knock-off baseball cap turned backwards
To mark you as a tough guy
With a Coney Island smile
I took the D train to the ocean
Snow lead to sand lead to salt water
I thought about the rogue great white
That glided silent past these shores decades ago
Liquids passing over rows and rows of dagger teeth
I thought about the siren and her opera
A never ending cry from beyond the horizon
The saddest music on earth
I thought about you
And how I wanted to hold your hand
At the tip of the pier
At the edge of the world
The sun thawing out carnival rides
And the current bringing our song
Out to the siren
So she would no longer sing in silence
And despair
On crowded subway cars
From out of nowhere
Your scent would fill my nostrils
Only to dissipate
I felt you following me through the tunnels
Dens of rats and of kings
As I watched other trains pass me by
The light of their windows vibrating like hyperspeed stop motion
panels
I thought I might see you on the other side of the tracks
When the trains cleared
I sat in a dark club
Filling myself with alcohol
The room stretched long rectangular
In the distance there were exit signs
Glowing red in the pitch
As though they were trying to tell me something
Hair
And there sits the infant
A face smooth and swollen with youth
Mine is so stubbled
Each hair reminding me of what's gone.
I shave nearly every day
"Human hair is made up of dead cells"
I remember this with each glance
In the mirror, tiny black worms escaping
The rosy soil of my cheeks, chin and neck
Starving for air
My grandfather used to say that
Eating the crusts on my sandwich
Would put hair on my chest
Now I look at that chest
Awed at how much bread I must have eaten
Sometimes I wonder if in a past life
I was a spider because of my spindly arms
And legs, skinny with black tufts of fur
My abdomen bears no red hour glass
Just hair
And there sits the infant
A face smooth and swollen
I can remember not enjoying the idea
Of a glinting razor and white foam
Now I shave nearly everyday
For Valerie
Sometimes I thank God that I'm not a woman
Because if I was
There would probably be a whole lot of dead men
Littering the streets
And choking the sewers
If I was a woman
Cat calls alone would make me hunger for a rifle
Sure, I'd conceal pepper spray in my bra
And strap a knife to my thigh
For the up-close & personal combat
But I would be most content with a gun
Every "hey baby"
Every whistle
Ever poorly pronounced slurred flirt
Every mal enunciated jeer
Every futile request for my phone number
Every pawing that was not invited
Every grope that was not requested
Would result in a breathtaking demonstration
Of my quick aim
And uncanny ability to seek and hit my target
Bullseye in the groin
If I was a woman
I would definitely go for the eyes
Because the eyes say so much on their own
When you stand back to get a good look at me
Unabashed tactless ogling
Proud that your masculinity permits you
To fondle me within your under developed imagination
Five fingers grouped into a spike
Two reptilian swipes at your agape eyes
And I'd pop those suckers so fast
Your head would spin
Now, I know some men who posses the rare talent
Of treating women with dignity
Of treating other men with respect
Of treating any fellow human being to these gifts
So don't try to pawn of some primitive excuse
Of the alpha male, jaw hanging, saliva dripping and festering
with bacteria
Because there are some boys out there who are above that
Who have no reason to associate themselves with dogs
Thank God that I'm not a woman
Because if I was, I would menstruate
And if I menstruated
As Margaret Cho so eloquently put it
Every bachelor pad in the country would look like a murder scene
I would bleed everywhere
I would use my juices to draw on your bedroom walls, write hexes
and pen your epitaph
I would give your silly jock muscle sports car a paint job you
would never forget
I would make you drink it up and force you to enjoy it
Because we've spent centuries lapping up your shit
I'd make sure your head was between my thighs on heavy flow days
Payback for your porno culture etiquette of cum-on-face
I would squat naked for everyone to see
Legs spread, liquids hitting the ground in scarlet clumps
Arms waving, voice shouting "well boys I know you want me
to hand over my uterus on a silver platter
But you've spent ages tying us to the stake
You've discovered systematic rape
You've dropped the bomb
And you've stained the earth with blood.
Now it's my turn."
[END]
© 2006 Mark Harris - Contributor's
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