Rehab Stories: Rough Trade in the Kitchen

If I feel your hand on my ass, bro

one more goddamn time

I’m going to lose my shit

That may be
how they do things in prison
but I’m a little boy from the suburbs
and I feel I need to tell you
I like my sweet lovin’
with a little less
five o’clock shadow

Now don’t get me wrong

When you tell me,

“You got one sexy ass, boy,”

it’s flattering as hell
My self esteem’s
at an all time low
and I can use
all the compliments I can get

The problem as I see it

is that you’re so fucking tall

and you’ve got it

firmly in your head
that I’m more than a pretty painting
to be admired from afar
I’m your plaything
which might not be so daunting
if it wasn’t so apparent
that you liked your play
very rough, indeed

Now they told me when I came here

that I would learn new things

Though I never expected

my horizons
to be broadened
in such an indelicate fashion
it’s not that you’re a man
it’s just that
has never been my style

Artwork by Tom of Finland.

This entry was posted in Poem Archive, Rehab Stories and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.