wes bender, three poems –

tar4jack

Here before you is wanting to be laid
At your feet, with your dick in my hair
Something threatening the addict in you
Begging for your prick to contaminate my system

I want to breathe you in slowly
Inhale the scent of fuck from your musky skin
Stealing the deepest breath I can hold
So I can choke on your burning smoke

We could threaten sanity’s sobriety
The Mickey & Mallory of  bottomed-out words
Natural Born Fuckers on a cross-country spree
Leaving my fine ass print on car hoods in 3 time zones

                        bad
                        bad
                        bad
                        bad
                        bad

Make me the resin coating on your handprint
The junkie feel that never quite washes off;
Let me be the sticky black tar in your lungs
Eventually consuming you


When

it was the way he towered over her
      
      the curve of her chin fit
      perfectly in his palm

his weight leaning into her


     
holding her to the wall
      pressing into the honey of her hips

sunflower happiness in a field
           
      showing off in the passenger’s side window
      on a stormy Thursday with a tank full of gas

the release he brought her

     
with the back of Thor’s hammer
      leaning against a lightning bolt


Check

She had his hand under her skirt
At a dark table just out of the neon reach
Of the obnoxious beer sign selling Corona
On the other side of the room

He didn’t have to ask her not to wear panties

Not so crowded on a Tuesday afternoon
There were sparks buzzing in the stale air
And Marshall Tucker had it all wrong
As he thought,
“Can’t you see what I’m doin’ to this woman?”

And there he grinned when her inner thigh twitched
And flexed a muscle under his buttery palm
Feeling his way, guided
By the sensitive beacon reaching for his attention
Filling his hands with the sugary glaze he sought

Tickling her magic spot in slow motion
The bartender cut lemons
A busboy wiped down the table next to them
Her eyes rolled back in her head
Gentle swirls of dynamite ignited his fingertips
The manager walked by, staring at a schedule
Her sun dress was stuck to the back of her legs
She was rigid in the moment, feeling him
For the attention he was expanding
When he slid a well-oiled digit into her
She squirmed and twitched and breathed
Restlessly releasing a soft but obvious sigh
Just as the waitress approached

She didn’t know whether to come or cry

“Oh,” he ordered from the barmaid,
“we’ll need another round.
We’re gonna be here a while.”

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1 Comment

Filed under heroin love songs, wes bender

One response to “wes bender, three poems –

  1. jck

    really enjoyed…thanks for the last minute inclusion…

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