Saturday, July 12, 2014

shouldn’t every hour be happy?


weightlifting is a gradual process

i’ve stayed with it

even when injured

at times i figure

i will never get bigger

then there are times

i can see that i have

 

i don’t do supplements

hell, everyone knows

i don’t really take care of myself

but ego demands

weights in my hand

the soundtrack to my existence

 

and then i do twelve ounce curls

my six pack abs

hidden by what beer does to a stomach

listen to a singer with just a guitar

and maybe a harmonica

 

but after today’s workout

it is just a beer

jenny has put on

echo and the bunnymen

she’s cleaning something

wearing a red bikini top

and cut off jeans

 

i can’t help but stare

at this woman with whom i share

a studio apartment

that is made even smaller

by my weight bench

that jenny just barely tolerates

 

she has caught my eyes on her

smiles

opens the fridge

brings me another beer

and goes back to whatever she was doing

 

as you can tell i have nothing to say

i’m just really distracted

by that red bikini top

jenny drops something

mutters in japanese

her cleaning turns angry

 

i abandon the couch

come behind her

press my body to hers

and begin to grope her breasts

 

“i’m doing something”

she chides in annoyance

 

“so am i”

i reply

 

of course this is the part

where all my muscles don’t matter

this petite japanese girl

has me wrapped around her finger

 

my advances are an act of hope

just one “no”

and i will scurry away

 

she turns into my arms

“o.k., but this is gonna cost you”

 

i press my mouth against

her sugar lips

the bargaining we can skip

she already knows

she is going to get her way

 

she found me on the dark streets of decay

wearing a t-shirt that read,

“paradise lost”

now it should be re-lettered,

“paradise regained”

 

*** (lips like sugar, sugar kisses)

 

 

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