23 and Me (triggers)
AlexBoyd
Registrant
First of all, I apologize for the length of this poem. It's my first attempt to write about this event. I've never tried to make sense of it for many reasons, but I'm afraid the time has come for me to start the effort.
23 and Me
I couldn’t see the forest for the trees,
But he saw me on the trail,
And I saw him, a trucker walking his dog.
He was what I needed,
Here at this place where men went
To satisfy ghosts we don’t mention.
I was 23 and not a year had passed
During the previous 17 without sex.
Be a scorekeeper. Be a judge.
I was insatiable. I was stupid. I was...am.
He liked me, the sign was there,
Which instantly made me need him.
He suggested we solidify our
Acquaintance in the cab
Of his truck with 18 wheels.
He opened the door and held it for me,
Like a gentleman. A dog lover,
And a gentleman.
It started simply enough,
Calm even, for lurid stranger relations,
But then he wanted to see it,
Just bend over and let me look,
He whispered.
Now on all fours.
Like lightning, I found myself pinned
In the bed chamber, like a coffin,
With him thrusting inside.
It was unnatural for me to say, but I tried:
No.
Stop.
Wait.
Even making deals to do other acts,
My hands failing to stop the piston,
What I remember the most:
He laughed!
Saying he would finish what I had started,
Snarling the familiar filth from my boyhood,
Until his grunting ended.
In the exact moment he pulled out,
He simply said, “Now get out.”
As I pulled on clothes,
I remember so vividly
The dog, now curled
In a ball on the floor,
Moving his eyes
Up to me, giving that
Look of resignation,
That look of pity
Only dogs can give.
In the filthy restroom nearby,
Swarming with men,
I sat, trying to eliminate
A gentleman’s DNA
And pull myself together,
As several sets of eyes
Spied through cracks in the stall,
Hoping to find what they needed.
23 and Me
I couldn’t see the forest for the trees,
But he saw me on the trail,
And I saw him, a trucker walking his dog.
He was what I needed,
Here at this place where men went
To satisfy ghosts we don’t mention.
I was 23 and not a year had passed
During the previous 17 without sex.
Be a scorekeeper. Be a judge.
I was insatiable. I was stupid. I was...am.
He liked me, the sign was there,
Which instantly made me need him.
He suggested we solidify our
Acquaintance in the cab
Of his truck with 18 wheels.
He opened the door and held it for me,
Like a gentleman. A dog lover,
And a gentleman.
It started simply enough,
Calm even, for lurid stranger relations,
But then he wanted to see it,
Just bend over and let me look,
He whispered.
Now on all fours.
Like lightning, I found myself pinned
In the bed chamber, like a coffin,
With him thrusting inside.
It was unnatural for me to say, but I tried:
No.
Stop.
Wait.
Even making deals to do other acts,
My hands failing to stop the piston,
What I remember the most:
He laughed!
Saying he would finish what I had started,
Snarling the familiar filth from my boyhood,
Until his grunting ended.
In the exact moment he pulled out,
He simply said, “Now get out.”
As I pulled on clothes,
I remember so vividly
The dog, now curled
In a ball on the floor,
Moving his eyes
Up to me, giving that
Look of resignation,
That look of pity
Only dogs can give.
In the filthy restroom nearby,
Swarming with men,
I sat, trying to eliminate
A gentleman’s DNA
And pull myself together,
As several sets of eyes
Spied through cracks in the stall,
Hoping to find what they needed.