because, I swear, every word of this poem is true.


I Won't Tell You Her Name

She comes from somewhere I have been:
Columbus. It's a county seat. It has a
Lovely courthouse square, but, otherwise,
It isn't much. The downtown storefronts
Show their age, as all the commerce now
Occurs along the highway into town,
Where franchise restaurants glow at
Night, and knots of rednecks, separate
From knots of Spanish-speakers, eat.
I look at her, at times, at work, and lust
For her, though not a lot. She's at her
Best some way away. She's mostly thin,
But has a little roll of fat upon her hips.
Her eyes seem small. Her nose is hooked,
But, still, I think I might enjoy her
Underneath me...if she'd like an older
Man, and if she'd deign to do the deed
In silence, as her voice is loud, and if
The sex could be enough, and she would
Not decide that we should spend a lot
Of time together, neither here, nor in
Columbus, to which I have been.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 23 times
Written on 2013-05-06 at 22:54

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