But No Actual Sex

Lovely lady on the cement block, teach me to rhyme
like you rhyme, lifting your skirt to the burning orange
sky with the sun in your hair and soiled alleys tucked
carefully between your thighs (a quick buck, a quick--)


"--but no actual sex," the editorial reads,
turning its inkjet nose up at the very notion
of figures dryhumping in a sweltering bedroom
or the image of a skirt hiked up and unisex
denim tugged down low on thin, pale thighs
behind a graying building.


I respect you, lonely lady.  You have more guts than
most of the lawyers, politicians, and young urban professionals
all melted together in their big, successful mess.
We'll never find you saying, "that, yes, but no actual sex."


"This is a place of business, you'll have to get your sick kicks somewhere else."

Reviews

[Plexiglass]

I liked this very much, kind of an ode to prostitutes. At least that's what I thought it was. I think you did a really good job with your language, very provocative, and I think everything flowed very well. I also liked how you brought the title of the poem in a few times. The line about the ink jet is priceless too. If I would change anything it would be to take out the last line in the second stanza because I just don't think you need it. And the part that starts "You have----mess" was not one of my favorite because I thought you lost the flow you had before and it made the poem sound almost preachy? I'm not sure if that's the right word but for that moment I wasn't as swept away as I was with the rest of it. Very good piece.

[deactivated account. pl..]

I love the feel of this poem... the title pulled me in, and after the end of the line with the words "burning orange.", you had me.
This is very skillfully written, very nice job.