He stands erect
his jacket checked at the door.
Surveys the floor
where dancers more or less perform
to an MTV norm
writhing and circling by.
With his casual clothes
and his casual attitude
to casual sex
he is already a casualty
rushing headlong for an accident
and it meets him tonight in the form of
a Barbie-doll beauty with C-cup breasts
and a heart full of
She picks him
she tricks him
until he stands tall and hopeful.
He buys her a drink and engages in chat
while he makes sure that
he doesn’t smell too bad.
“Come back to my pad
and fuck me,” she croons
He swoons and tries to play it cool
but his head bobs up and down
like a fat man on a trampoline.
he strives to keep it in his pants
tries to make small talk
but just kind of rants
about nothing in particular,
his cock bent reticular in anticipation.
She parks and barks,
In the condo
he tries to fondle her charms,
but she wriggles from his arms.
“Show me what you got to arouse us.”
So he drops his trousers.
His flagpole slowly wanes in the breeze of her
Less than impressed
she refuses to divest
the clothes from her blessed
Instead, like a cat, she screeches,
“Whaddya call that?
Some kind of bonsai?
I’ve had 12 year olds bigger than you, boy,
and 70 year old royals making me come.
So I’m not gonna sleep
with some self-absorbed creep
with a prick the size of my thumb.”
He went home by bus
didn’t make a fuss
just pulled the trigger
gave a small shiver
like the third orgasm of the night
It was the first thing he’d done right
I was standing at the bus stop at Commercial & Adanac this afternoon when a whole parade of American muscle cars went by. Most were of the elongated and colourful variety. There must have been two dozen of them. I managed to get shots of three.
I’m not interested in cars that much but these were fun to watch drive by.
There are a few moments in time when sport reaches the level of poetry and art, when grown men shed tears of pure emotion, when the heart beats fiercely, and words are hard to come by. One of those moments in time happened today at the Ashes Test match at Headingley.
It is hard to describe for anyone not familiar with cricket but, essentially the Old Enemy Australia set England what seemed like an almost impossible task but which with luck and guile and the skills of one man in particular, England won at the very last minute. Almost the entire country seemed to be watching and, when the final stroke had secured the improbable victory, the whole country exploded with utter joy, an outburst of raptuous emotion that England has needed for a while,
What must it feel like to be Ben Stokes, England’s hero of the day? Almost single-handed he blasted the last sixty or seventy runs needed, and saved the match and the Ashes for England. Even the oft-depressed Sir Geoffrey Boycott was exuberant: “I’ve seen some remarkable cricket moments in my life but that is the best I’ve seen in over 50 years. Ben Stokes saved the Ashes and gave a magical inspirational innings.”
Now, we go forward to the fourth match of the series, with the scores one win each, with one draw. England already seems happy with its bowlers and now, with this magnificent batting effort in the second innings eclipsing our disastrous first innings outing, we can look forward with confidence to the final two matches.
This is the 92nd anniversary of the murder by the State of Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti for the crime of being anarchists.
“What from the splendid dead
We have inherited –
Furrows sweet to the grain, and the weed subdued –
See now the slug and the mildew plunder.
Evil does not overwhelm
The larkspur and the corn;
We have seen them go under.
Let us sit here, sit still,
Here in the sitting-room until we die;
At the step of Death on the walk, rise and go;
Leaving to our children’s children this beautiful doorway,
And this elm,
And a blighted earth to till
With a broken hoe.”
— Edna St Vincent Millay “Justice Denied in Massachusetts”
Lest we forget.