Elton Johns

 

Naked women and the fifth drink of the night

I lean into your shoulder and say

“You can have sex with any of them

But you’ll be dreaming of me.”

Well, no, I don’t say it

But I want to

You hold a five in the air and nod sideways at me

The blonde is for me

You always take the redhead

Even if it is just a wig

Because the redder the hair the redder the pink

I want to ask you if that is a scientific fact

Or just a not-so-old wives’ tales

But I think men just know these sorts of things

So I agree knowingly, not knowing

Five she’s in my face

Twenty she’s in my lap

But you pay for the private rooms

Even as I try to politely refuse

You say, “She’ll be as gentle as you like.

“Or as rough.”

I’m face to nipple with tits like rotting cantaloupes

And she knows in an instant I’m not saluting

“Closet case,” she laughs

Only around you, but I have no answer

“It’s alright, I get plenty of your type.”

Elton Johns she calls us

“Just trying to impress the boss,” she laughs harder

If only

How much more fucked up it gets

Out with my sister’s husband

And instead of being indignant at you

In another room with another woman

While your wife watches your toddler

I’m just hoping you have a gay streak

Between your runner’s legs

Which is why I’m paying for the drinks

I can’t help myself

Because if one night it all works for me

I’d break my sister’s heart in a second

So when the man on TV screams

“God hates fags!”

I sigh, “Join the club, man.  Join the club.” 

 

 

 

Joseph Fonseca is almost halfway through his goal of living in 10 cities in 10 years.  He has previously been published in the short story anthology, “See You Next Tuesday: The Second Coming.”