ANOTHER KIND OF SEX POEM

PENETRATION IS 9/10 OF THE LAW

Con Edison dug deep
past what was rock
next to Jack
whose rhythm
was broken
just as he was ready,
and she primed; he'd been trying
to fuck her for years now.
Jack was hot for her.
Very hot.
He had exhausted all the old lines:
C'mon once before we live;
you ain't gettin any older;
who ya savin it for; I wouldn't tell,
I promise, I wouldn't... shit,
there's no one here to tell--
but Thelma wouldn't budge.
Finally, in desperation:
Hey, honey, I ain't goin nowhere, this is forever--
did it.
She hiked
those angelic crinolins
up where God winked.
Jack strained and sweated
forgetting which came off first
as the first light
shone through worm holes,
but Jack didn't care; his nostrils were caves.
Hell, I'm so close; I'll deal with that shit later.
But Thelma had swiftly put the vise on.
Jack sued: invasion
of privacy; noise harrassment;
any goddamn thing.
But the judge
looking more like a blacksmith
asked: Well,
did ya cop? Did ya get
the little fella in?--
Jack, a bit embarrassed,
answered, no--
--threw his ass out.

Jack climbed back down
into the huge Con Ed hole thinking
of how to bullshit another 100 years
living next to a woman
who no longer
trusted him.

Norman Savage
Coney Island, 1969