Three Poems
By Eric David Lough.
God and Wife
A Jesuit looking fellow was selling some kind of flower
plant that looked like a magnificent bloom of blackberries,
or very large peppercorns, and he was washing them in a
pool of fresh spring water that formed at the bottom of a
heavenly mountain. Slopping them with sea salts.
Bundling them in tissue paper. All for $16.75. What
bullshit this was, and people were buying it! Sending their
loved ones to war, or some reenactment of a civil
movement. Like some celebrated holiday. All in costume.
And some got so in to it, they felt a divine spark come over
them and began shedding their clothes, and dunking their
naked bodies in the very same basin that you could buy a
peppercorn popsicle for $16.75. Franticly trying to scrub
away whatever madness they could. But always asking for
an all natural soap, the kind that doesn’t clog your pores.
After seeing this act of weakness and absurdity for about
20 minutes, I decided to leave California and head east, to
a more advanced debauchery. Hopping from one decrepit
train to another. Always on the lookout, for god and wife.
Devils In Stilettos
A triad of splashy queers in their late sixties, were
leering and hounding on a public transit, causing a gulp
of disgust in the well mannered throats of the lily-white
tight asses, and they were all dressed in street walking
drag, with tears streaming down their rough cheeks, fed up
with being stoned and stabbed by the so called righteous
in this 21st century Sodom and Gomorrah. Just another
lonely nights walk on broken dreams, and their manly legs
were badly in need of a shave. These forbidden lovers in
disguise, were always keeping one eye on the hustle. The
trick. Not caring who they offended, or tossed a quick
one on. No matter the time of day, or the place, it was
always business and lipstick for these devils in stilettos.
With their gold chain purses and bulging Adam’s apples.
Tempting every single soul with fake eyelashes, agonizing
crocodile smiles, and hypnotizing flavors of the ancient
lands. This was the last compelling beauty. The last
mischievous thrill ride through an imperfect, despondent
world.
Absent
I’m waiting for the knocks at the door.
The naked girls in the hall.
The banging of pans and tambourines.
The tip of the hats.
The shots at the bar.
The kissing and grab assing.
The fucks
just because.
I’m waiting
for all of these things.
Like all the rest of the poor shleps.
Deep sighs and sticky thighs
wrapped at the waist.
Then I get a letter in the mail,
It says,
Dear Quixote
I’m waiting for you,
but you must come to Jersey.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Eric David Lough is the author of two books of poetry titled, “Pistol Whipped” and “Lassoed With A Decorative Tongue.” He has been traveling all over America for the past 15 years, living in Ohio, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii and Colorado. Mr. Lough’s work has appeared in Wordletting Ezine, Memoir(and), The Ampersand Review, Breadcrumb Scabs, A Generation Defining Itself, and many other literary journals. Mr Lough’s work can be purchased through any online bookstore or you can visit his website.
First published in 3:AM Magazine: Thursday, May 14th, 2009.
