Pastel Hell- Leeroy Berlin

Posted: January 19, 2011 in Poetry

 

pastel hell

I was driving home from the bar

on the road between rows

of suburban houses. Pre-fabbed

shitboxes

that retailed a cool mil.

in the driveways cars that

cost more than I made in three years

A BLT and too many

scotch and waters made me queasy.

I had to pull over to

vomit.

 

From the gutter I could

see into the houses

gilded in wrought iron

gates and fences

with electric intercoms

and all those windows lit

on dull lives

and through the glass I could see a man with

a flabby face and swinging jowls

fucking his fat wife on the kitchen table

where the whole neighborhood could watch.

He worked hard, swinging his rolling mass

giving her all he had

six inches of throbbing purple

the color of the drapes

that framed the window

and I foresaw the window

knocked from its frame

by the sheer force of their

fucking.

 

So I figured

why not

and I pulled it

out right there

on the road

and jerked off

watching this

balding, sweating

man

crushing three

hundred pounds

of woman

against oak.

the only honest thing

for miles.

 

He picked up

his tempo

I beat it

faster and

watched

her

face

her

head tilted

back and all of

her shuddered at once

all three of us

came together.

In the spirit of the moment

I pulled a twenty dollar bill

from my pocket and wiped myself off with

it. I held the soiled bill up

and pulled out my lighter

and burned it.

I dropped the embers in the

gutter and stamped them out but

I should have used a hundred.

 

 

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