POETRY

Rent-a-Dancer

Up the two long flights
just off broadway times square
rent-a-dancers pose squirming
under piles of helmet hair
I pick the tall blonde goddess
with the smudged and dirty face
“you hafta buy a ticket
ta wrestle in this place”
so I jump in groping, grinding
my way across the floor
grabbing hands and mouths of flesh
always wanting more
proposing gross activities
she feels my pocket’s bulge
whispers forbidden fantasies
in which we might indulge
we slip into a side room and
before my time has come
I’m laid out in fuzzy darkness
senseless, sightless, numb
I come to trussed and groggy
in cute pumps and gown of blue
I’m sorely freshly fucked and now
a rent-a-dancer, too.

matt landers 7/04