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S.A. GRIFFIN
In A Pig’s Eye the email message read like a tasteless tabloid headline you’d spy in the grocery store while waiting on line pigs orgasm for 30 minutes “What a deal, lucky pig.” he laughs out loud musing privately over the useless trivia “Never see that one on a game show.” its late his lady is curled up asleep in their bed he shuts down the email then closes the computer for the night always a sweet lullaby to experience the audible stillness that settles after the cyber hum cuts out lights off time to hit the rack he sneaks in under cover of darkness like always he wants her hard not to he crawls close and huddles up like a purring cat blindly reading her hips, breasts, ass and thighs with his fingertips cracking the code of her slumber teasing her awake soon those colored disco lights are spiking the room nice feels nice the machinery is functioning well but Christ on a cross it hits him like a smart bomb striking a dumb target with cold and deadly accuracy pigs orgasm for 30 minutes the image roots into his cortex blink blinking in his head like a dimly lit neon sign pigs… orgasm… for… 30… minutes a nasty thought an awkward idea that won’t stop as much as he tries he can’t shake the squealing intermittent message some sort of strange karma meant for the stockyards of Chicago maybe but not him weirdness and guilt wound his tender psyche “Could be its time to go vegetarian.” he seizes the thought and holds on to it hoping that the bad animals will all just go away he flips over and strokes on studying the ceiling Gandhi like trying to clear his mind breaking it down to each and every breath thinking only of that which is right in front of him but there it is and he is helpless before it pigs orgasm for 30 minutes he washes his weak mind in the swirling filthy river of thought and flows on his girlfriend oblivious to the inner turmoil that is mounting and the fact that he is mutating into some kind of sexual deviant with a thing for pigs as he begins to grapple with the full scale invasion of the promiscuous critters his corrupted core zigs and zags in and out of a patchwork of desperate distractions : the sound of a plane vibrating the nite the business appointment tomorrow afternoon and his general lack of employment rock videos hip hop and rap a new pair of shoes he doesn’t need Bob Hope’s 100th birthday the weird weather mud wrestling pigs damned filthy pigs gotta give it to‘em nothing is quite as good as even the thought of trembling for half an hour in a spastic pleasure coma porcine or not the woman next door and what was her name? tits big and little his girlfriend’s tits rubbing up against his chest nipples hard and pigs don’t have tits not like women anyway but are their cocks really corkscrew? shit’s getting bad so he goes for the ace the trump the big card to put the brakes on this bestial insanity : THE MEANING OF LIFE THE GREAT ELUSIVE UNIVERSAL TRUTH THAT GOD MUST BE A PIG BECAUSE PIGS ORGASM FOR 30 MINUTES! That’s it! That’s all she wrote! his train careens out of control snorting and speeding dangerously down the track like an over budget Hollywood movie he huffs and he puffs playing hide the sausage while all the little piggies run roughshod crying “30 minutes, 30 minutes, 30 minutes…” all the way home pigs in blankets those limp dicks at Enron the price of bread and how many carbohydrates per slice Dr. Atkins revolution dead of head wounds the president select Florida pigs with chads clinging carelessly to their tense fat bodies (must remember to vote) secret service pigs supreme court pigs intern pigs on their knees fire breathing pigs of mass democracy that studly swine Porky Pig and that lucky Petunia Pig and thuh thee thuh thee thuh thee thuh thee thuh thee that’s not all folks! desperate men chowing down pig cocks on some reality show a t.v. nation of pimps and whores stroke, stroke Piggly Wiggly gettin’ jiggy and if pigs could fly librarians gone wild yeah, yeah, librarians sexy stacked librarians in lingerie like Marion Madame Librarian working the reference desk and there it is it’s happening the feeling coming back just keep rubbing that stick because where there’s smoke there’s yes Yes YES… FRIGGIN’ PIGS ORGASM FOR THIRTY DAMNED MINUTES! he surrenders and does his thing squirt! and he is spent spilling his pearls before virtual swine he pleases his girlfriend satisfied she falls asleep in his arms their cat is howling in the hallway like an abandoned child upset by their activity he calls the pet into the bed and soon everything is right he can’t sleep he has been worked over by the marauding hogs his head still uneasy in the wake rent’s due time to do the laundry no clean underwear he gets out of bed fires up the idiot box surfs awhile then tricks himself asleep riding the cheap alpha waves of an infomercial no doubt about it once again he has been finger fucked by the gods maybe next time 2003 S.A. Griffin S.A. Griffin is the author of Unborn Again (Phony Lid), A One Legged Man Standing Casually On Hollywood Blvd. Smoking A Cigarette (1989, Shelf Life Press), Heaven Is One Long Naked Dance (1993, Rose of Sharon Press), Twisted Cadillac: A Spoken Word Odyssey (with The Carma Bums, 1996, Sacred Beverage Press) and Co-Editor of The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry (1999, Thunder’s Mouth Press). |
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© 2003 Underground Voices |
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