Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Porn and Poetry

For Gavin

Our audience, I think, could not care less
if I love you, as long as we have sex
at some stage in this book. I suggest
a public consummation best performed
in San Francisco, New York, or Berlin—
unless the Vatican’s available—some
great city frothy with hot spunk and piss,
the gay equivalents of milk and honey.

I’m proud to say I’ve never disappointed
a paying customer in my entire
life. I’m always glad to grab my shins—
to cackle, squeal, or bray—imitate
the perfect piglet, chicken, or wild donkey
the poor things dream of boning in the dark.
I know what men want. Pornography
enjoys a wider base of fans than love.

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