at a rock show
she smiles up at me
as we stand together
in a crowd of thousands
at a rock show.
i ask her name.
i cannot hear.
she says something.
doesn’t really matter.
her friend says,
she’s crazy
i say,
she’s a spinner
minutes pass by,
she smiles up at me,
says,
i know what a spinner is
& i smile, mutter,
i doubt it,
i don’t think you’ve been to Manilla
she smiles up at me,
fiercely, & says,
i’ve never fucked a grandpa
& i smile, salaciously,
say,
there’s a first for everything
she takes my hand.
steps in front of me.
the concert begins,
just as my mind begins
to race.
pick up (truck)
she waves goodbye
as her friend rides away
in the backseat of an Uber,
then turns to me,
eyes wide & expectant.
a slight chill lingers
in the late Spring air
as we stand next to each other
just outside
the Riverside Municipal Auditorium,
minutes after the last notes
of a rock show
melt into a cloudless night sky.
options weighed,
suggestions offered,
opportunistic
and otherwise.
she takes my hand,
says,
so, where are you parked?
i lead her astray
down toward the rabbit hole.
we kiss, awkwardly.
she is a foot shorter than me.
as i climb into the driver’s seat
of my pick-up truck,
she says,
how far to your house?
i say,
i have a room at the Mission Inn
just around the corner
she says,
do you need the blue pill?
& i laugh uproariously,
i took it an hour ago,
as i put the truck into gear.
morning
a dull gray light
creeps through blackout curtains
as i blink to life,
aware, suddenly,
of a naked woman by my side.
she stirs, asks the time,
smiles when i tell her.
i have nowhere to go,
she says
then neither do i
ODDS and ENDS, 2 poems
terror in the aisle
she takes my hand,
leads me to the back row
B-Movie double feature
on a Saturday night.
lights drop low,
first movie begins,
Plan 9 From Outer Space
in glorious black & white.
couples huddle together
at the front of the house,
an old man eats stale popcorn,
a young couple brace
into a kiss.
she glances at me &
i fidget in my chair.
the theatre feels warm &
i can’t catch a breath.
the movie takes over,
i find solace in the flickering light.
she takes my hand,
places it high on her thigh,
nearly under her skirt
i gulp down air
struggle to breathe
my throat constricted.
i can’t catch a breath.
i swallow
hard
struggle to breathe
my throat
constricted
Bela Lugosi smiles
down at me.
flying saucers
over Hollywood Blvd.
she takes my hand.
i can’t catch a breath.
i must be dying.
ssshh
you can only say
so much
before you are censored
community standards
rules and regulations
stand in the corner
don’t say a thing
it’s all against the law
…the dream police,
police, police
pornography forms
passionate pictures
whether it’s coitus
or cake
we bathe in the glow
we cannot get enough
and the planet is burning
people still starving
the rich only grow stronger
we’re under a proverbial thumb
the oligarchs of Amerika
deserve the same option
as those out of Russia
it’s a similar war
just different weapons and tactics
fought in dark cabinets
where the wild things still roam
soon we will all be prisoners
we will live in gray cages
oh wait!
my love
we’re already there!
© Jack Henry 2022
bio: jack henry is a writer. he has found some success in various journals and on-line publications. he has a new book coming out in the winter of 22/23 called "los angeles" from GUTTER SNOB PRESS. he has a blog page at jackhenry.wordpress.com.
