Guest Host by Blaine S. Francis



I don’t like poetry, she said to me
She said this after I told her I was a poet
But, she said, I like You
How strange, I thought, and said so
She was unmoved
She offered me another beer
Which I accepted
And then she turned on her faucet
of innuendos
I listened to her
Carefully watching her breasts through her blouse
Pushing the fabric
(is that rayon?)
She asked me what I was looking at
My titties, she implied
Do you like them?
Again I was silent
So she slipped the buttons on her blouse
And pulled it open
All the time never kissing me
She dropped her blouse and then unbuttoned her pants
That denim-covered field I might have glanced at
She pulled them down
Sitting before me in her panties
The two of us carefully sipping beer
“H h h h e-e e ere’s s s sss Johhhn nney y Y”
Ed said
“You wanna watch this?” she asked plainly
I thought about it and then set down my beer
She stood up and walked into the bedroom
Stretching out on the bed in the dark
Breathing lightly
And i stubbed out my cigarette before going in
Hoping as I did so
that she would be democratic about the whole thing
And a little poetic.

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