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Sunday, February 10, 2013

Sexual Disillusionment

He has the appropriate walk;
                his hips sway,
his torso leans back, and
                his legs swing
        in arcs
                      away from his center.
All to imply,
             "I've got a twelve-incher
         and two cantaloupes
        I'm dealing with here."

A passing stranger makes
(more than friendly?)
                         eye contact with him
for a fraction of a second
                           too long. 
                                      His fuse is lit.

Its good she is
there to talk him down;
she gives him the
rational arguments.

He keeps saying,
                 "It just isn't natural to want to stick your penis
         in a man's ass.  It's
          for making babies."

(Like he never jacked-off or stuck it in a woman for fun?) 

He keeps looking
back at the stranger,
a block away, to yell
vile things.  The stranger
can't hear him anymore. 

At the peak of anger,
                      he punches a lamp post. 
The cracking sound
                          down the street. 

The stranger
smiles, and
shakes his head. 

Mr. Big Dick sits on the curb,
holds his broken and bleeding
hand to his chest,
                   and cries.

She walks away
                       everything she needs to.

The Collected Chaff, v. 1.0     

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