Napkin Poem #2

He did it to me fifteen ways
from Sunday
Like he always does.
We have
neutrons and protons that
get together
and scream
"Let's get this shit
done!"
It took me one minute
fifty-six seconds to come.
I counted.
He's about three shades darker
than you
and two shades less
eager.
He drew a picture of
my thighs
and I saw it on a freezer door
in a bar tonight
and felt like you had
forgotten
that he had RAPED
me.
In love. And I wanted him to.
Goodbye Norma Jean,
and I didn't mean a thing.
Your legend was a long
dark highway
And two baby boys
and one more for the road.
He's got those Indian fingers,
what am I supposed to do?
Of course I pretend
they're yours.
But this beer and this cold
hard bottle
is going to have to do
for now.

for now.