Wednesday, March 10, 2010


A quiet desperation brings them here.
The sun is and humid outside.
The lounge door swings open...It's cool inside.
It smells of perfume and disinfectant.
Hip new sounds are coming from the juke box.
The young women, sit or stand.
Mixing with male customers...they ply their trade.
The men sit, and drink. They smoke cigarettes.
Some laugh...others sit still and sullen.
Some are young...Some are old...
All are here for the same reason, cheap thrills.
Safe, impersonal, self-gratification.
Have the girl of your dreams for five minutes.
You pick her out...Ten bucks, and a five dollar tip...
Only if she makes your dick good and hard.
Drink that booze, and loosen up...
Feed a few bucks into the juke box.
Wait for you lovemaking songs...
Pretend she is yours...
But remember, do not touch.
"She really likes me", becomes their mantra.
Two or three lap dances with this special one...
No cops to worry about.
Never can get a phone number...
Maybe this time.
Leave the bar eighty bucks lighter...
Go home and masturbate...
Thinking of her face, tits, and fine ass...
For as long as you can...remember them.
Masturbate until it all fades into oblivion...
Then back to the bar...for another lap dance.

From: "A Spider In The Corner Of My Mind"...available on

1 comment:

  1. well, I always got phone numbers!!! I know they liked me!!!