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3 Poems by Tina Hess |
Mary Jane's Orgy Harry Stoner is first tonight, a raspy-voiced guy with thick fingers who tosses her on the table amid smouldering cigarette butts and half-empty whiskey bottles. He rough-handles her with quick-ease, prepares her for their hot-heavy hands and as she lies exposed before his eyes, he fights a mouth-watering urge to consume her before she's ready. He paid for her tonight. Finally to be first to roll her around, to feel her tighten under his touch. The first to inhale her musky scent, to taste her on his lips. First to find euphoria in her mind-erotic powers, to soar alone, high on her, before she's passed among his booze-stenched buddies to stroke their minds off reality and fly them high. Morning coffee, not a nooner Her cup crashes to the floor with one swipe. She lays back on the table. Expresso flows like first-blood over ruptured parts. Creams seeps over as her juices percolate for the first time since the table started to bang with his rhythm. Man, Toy, or Soda Machine? I just wonder if I used exact change and pushed your button just the right way would your light flash out of order or would you shoot out a hard object to put to my lips and quench my thirst like all good machines do? |
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