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Intimacies, Prose. Poems and Stories


I want to tell you about that time in Winnemucca . . . it was July & I was on my way to visit mother & I’d rolled into a Exxon in the middle of the day, Tuesday, I think, & the attendant asks if I’d like to visit the local whorehouse & I say, No, but, while I’m waiting for the bill, I think it might not be a bad idea with the temperature near ninety-eight & they’re bound to have air-conditioning & it’s just down the street & to the right, he says & I pull up in front & it’s a white clapboard house in the middle of the block, so I knock & the woman who opens the door is wearing a simple housecoat with flowers & clouds & a five pointed star on a very large gold chain & I tell her the gas station attendant & she brings me into a room filled with perfume & its darker than I expect & I have to blink a few times & take the seat she offers, not hers, but one at a bar where she sets up a cold beer & introduces me to a few of the women walking by & one, petite & young with frosted blond hair, sits on my left & another much darker who says she’s part Cherokee & full breasted sits at my right & one at a time then both at once they kiss my neck & want to know what I like best & would I like to come upstairs & see the rooms & maybe since it was so warm & they’re from Louisiana I might buy them a mint-julep & I do all around & we walk upstairs where they have a bath in each room & they take off all their clothes & so do I & we climb into the big tub & soap each other really well & rinse & climb onto the large round bed & first one then the other take their turn on me, first, with their hands & then with their mouths & occasionally they stop to kiss each other & fondle each other & I sip my beer & my mint-julep & I’m very hot & my cock is straining & one slips on a condom & eases me into her & the other comes from behind & begins to lick where I can’t see but can only feel & I don’t want this to end so we switch & I bury my head between the legs of the blond & the other takes me in her mouth & we switch again & I want this to go on but my time is almost up & I ask for more & pay more & they want to show me another part of the house & I don’t want this to end so I follow them naked & straining up another flight of stairs & I smell oranges & there’s Veronica from American History 102 & she’s straddling a large man with a hairy back & calling him Jack & it’s Jack Hammer from the science lab who could always make things explode & she’s sliding up & down on his prick & I think I smell roasted squid & tomatoes & onions & the girls have me between them again & take me to another room where I see mother watching a movie of two dogs fucking in the street & she’s eating a bowl of chocolate ice cream & nibbling lemon cookies & I call to her but she doesn’t seem to hear & the brunette with the full breasts has slipped her arm around me & is delicately probing my ass with a cool & slippery finger & I’m getting very excited again so we stop & the blond kneels down & now it doesn’t take very long with her squeezing me with her tongue & her hands on my balls & the brunette in my ass & as much as I hated it all to end I was going & would & could have & . . . & they just Stop! & now there are four of them & they lead me into another room where they’ve set up a film projector & they put me between them on another round bed & begin to massage me with oils & I smell almond & strawberry & the lights go out & the film begins to roll & they are the stars of the film with a donkey & a football team & each other on the beach & I see myself walking out of the swamp with my pet monkey, Archie, on my shoulder & in the next frame I have Barbara from Accounting on my lap & she’s pressing her naked breast against my mouth which opens & I begin to suck her nipple when a wave washes over us & there’s a blanket on white sand & it’s not Barbara on the blanket but these four girls from Winnemucca & I come by at a run with cops on my heels & they join me & run out the back door of the house & into a Buick Skylark & we’re down the road & headed toward the mountains where it’s cooler & we climb the first rise & the next & the next brings us to a hot spring with a cool stream that runs alongside & we climb into the bath & now there’s just Mona & me & it’s dark & I can hear the call of the loon across the lake & the swoop & swish of owls & up ahead the silhouette of a doe & her fawn & she suggests we walk & we do down the path to a lighted street at the edge of the town where my car is parked with the motor running & mother’s in the back working a crossword puzzle & Mona slips in & so do I & she wants to do it here on the street under the lamp so I let her but I want to too so we both do in a tangle of legs & the gearshift & we’re up-side down or at least I am when I hear a siren very far off & a bugle & the tramp-tramp-tramp of marching feet & when I look up we’re in the middle of a parade & mother’s in the lead & the girls from Winnemucca & Mona & I are on a bed & we’re naked & she’s on top & sliding up & down & the crowd is cheering & the band kicks it up a notch & I shift into first & head for the highway & a straight shot to Reno where I can start fresh & get pretty goods odds on whose in charge.


Barcelona Diary
It's Mother's Day
By Dawn's Early Light at 120 Miles Per Hour
The Man With His Back To The Room
Intimacies, Prose. Poems and Stories
Homage to a Widow
It's Only TV
Improvisations - Chapbook
After Goya
Improvisations - From Contemporary Music
Mustering What's Left