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lure of cheap sex



I’m sorry, I don’t understand. if a man provides his woman
with a good home, if he respects & loves her, & all he
requires in return is that she spends her nights with him,
so that he is not alone & hurt, & has the service & the heat
of her body in his bed, is that a selfish demand?

what tormenting mistress is this, who seeks other men, not
because they are more fashionable, have a sharper wit & a
serpentine tongue that submits to the sordid cunnilingus
that she craves, but merely because they are other men.
she has seduction in her eyes & fire in her heart, & there is
no god in heaven or hell that she bows to.

she’s drawn to clubs where the downbeat fondles her with
the hedonist rush of tribal drums & hot-wired guitars, &
every dance is a slam dance. barbarians in leather & metal
bracelets mark her exhibited skin with abrasive fingers, &
she wears those marks like Pictish tattoos. she spins like a
slutty ballerina in the vapid air of spice & smoke.

other girls give her dirty looks as the jokers who pay for her
drinks are anointed with lipstick smears. every star in the sky
falls before she’s ready to slip out of her heels, & the night
doesn’t end till she’s kissed the devil’s lips in the back of a
pimped Cadillac.

I love you, with no excuse for it nor enough whiskey to burn
it out, & when you get home, I will punish you…
or I will give you up.


(Art: Willy Ronis)


Written by JohnFeddeler
Published
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