by John Rocco
I rushed into the bar crowded with unknown faces
and Bianca wasn’t even bartending, it was that other
girl who said she got trapped in Vegas for three weeks.
Big tits and braces, I liked her but didn’t say hi because
I saw Jimmy sitting next to Eddie. “Jimmy! How do I
get to ’s?” I asked. I had never been there
but I heard it was a great dive strip bar from the Hammer
and Jimmy was a regular. He gave me directions and said:
“Wait till I finish this drink and I’ll go with you.” “Can’t
wait, Jimmy,” I replied and here it comes: “I got two girls
in the car who just can’t wait.” Instant respect and awe from all
and the bartender—what’s her name? Milly?—repeated the
directions to Billy Budd’s incorrectly and smiled. I walked
out of the bar a hero, the night my personal Melville story
the white whale about to get speared fucked to death
the cold sidewalk my hot ocean as I walked to the car.
As I drive I look over at her in the passenger seat.
How straight and blacker than black her hair is,
night can never be this black.
The truth came out for me at the red light:
I really want to fuck her long black hair.
Then the light changed.
*John Rocco at MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/292819823
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