Posted: November 16, 2010 in Uncategorized

I noticed the old woman in the street,
Legs splayed and arms thrown out,
Lifeblood drooling slowly into the gutters;
A car accident.

I realized that I had seen that pose before:
The passive acceptance of a dirty, unforgiving chore,
The pose of the movie whore.
I had seen her in the moving pictures.

Not the type that won Oscars or premiered at Cannes,
The kind of film produced in a basement
And sold on the Internet.
The porn flick, the ultimate admission of theatrical failure.

I don’t remember specifics, but what does it matter?
That mode of infamy follows one throughout life;
Whichever movie, it didn’t matter.
This dead woman in the road had once brought me, however indirectly, to sweet orgasmic release.

How disgusting I felt,
Having used this woman without her knowledge,
I had committed rape.
The blood on the sidewalk was on my hands as well.

My numerous violations already heavy on my conscience,
I stare, taking in that which had been so desirable at one point.
Watching the battered corpse of the faded, bloody beauty,
I try to remember her name.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s