Lost

Her touch burns the skin, 

yet soothes the soul,  

my fingertips tingle,

as the goose bumps rise upon her skin,  

her hair fragrant and soft, 

I want to clothe myself in it, 

her taste addictive,

lips, face and neck, 

and of course breasts, 

she now walks in my dreams, 

and dictates my thoughts,  

When did I lose myself in her?

Pants

The old man tells me to keep it in my pants,

Not as easy as it sounds,

Like a caged snake always searching,

Slithering this way and that,

Looking for a way out,

Restless and wholly uncomfortable,

The thing is like Harry Houdini,

Escaping again and again,

against impossible odds,

I asked a female friend for some help,

but she tried to turn it into a pet,

Stroking it and playing with it all the time,

I tried to warn her, 

It finally turned on her too,

Letting some other female stroke him, 

And play with him,

Now she blames me,

Damn, I guess the old man was right,

Best keep it in my pants. 

High School Sex

I would sit in the back of the pack and listen to his stories,

He talked of all the ‘sweet hot’ sex he had over the weekend,

Being a virgin, evidently one of the few still in existence, 

I could not and would not dispute his words or descriptions of the sexual act,

I had watched an older brother and his girlfriend through a key hole once, 

But mostly only heard moaning and bedsprings,

Still none of it sounded like what he described,

Last week one of my older sister’s friends slept over,

My sister was supposed to watch my little brother and me, 

She did, but called her friend, and then got into Dad’s liquor cabinet,

My sister passed out shortly after my little brother finally fell asleep,

Her friend, horny and liquored up, did not pass out,

but instead took me into my parents’ bedroom,

Sex 101,

Her hands cold, but gentle, 

Her lips and tongue fiery hot,

She taught what sex could be.

I sat in the back of the pack and listened to his stories,

Unbelievably about experiencing the same type of sexual experiences as the week before,

Finally I whisper, “Bullshit,"

Surprised at the flush of red flowing across his face,

Quietly I said, "There is nothing sweet about sex.

It is hot, sweaty hot, sticky hot, even smelly hot,

But sweet is hard to buy."

The others walked away,

 while he attempted to explain the sweetness away. 

© Douglas Polk