This poem was originally posted under “Desire – A Poetic Trilogy”, but I have decided to break up the poems so that each will stand alone instead. The original post has been re-titled “Echo – A Poem” and now only contains that piece.
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San Antonio Slim
I want to take you to a hotel. Play solitaire
in our room, with the local news
passing unnoticed on the television. You would
have paid cash at the register, using
the name Mrs. Baker.
I would be San Antonio Slim.
I put on my cowboy hat and
boots, practice saying partner in the mirror
above the dresser. Your reflection is seated
at a chair by the window, holding a
long cigarette holder, pretending to take a deep drags,
blowing invisible smoke
at me. You are wearing black knee
high stockings with matching kitty-cat ears.
I take off your skirt, remove your delicate panties
to taste your heart, and see
if your thighs really are the same flavor of cream.
You moan and I feel like Superman
with a fifth of whiskey.
You scold me. Submissively I turn up the air conditioner.
Turn off the bathroom light.
Rice that you are saving for your wedding day
is kept in a tacky heart-shaped box
at the bottom of your purse. In September, years ago,
you bought them, the rice and its box,
at an Asian market. The cashier told you they would
bring you good fortune.
The box is purple with
yellow rhinestones.
My wet fingers are entwined in your hair. I bury
my head in your chest, whisper my
secret sins to your small, beautiful
breasts. My twin confessors at
my altar of shame.
I want to make you smile. But tears fill your
mouth, trickling over your lips, spilling
like a fountain into mine.
I enter you, slipping into your flesh, feeling it
tighten about me. Slip into
your delicious fantasies and soft madness,
and in your dark, swollen eyes I crash, bereft in an
orgasmic whimper.
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Other poems in the Desire Trilogy.
Echo:
https://marcellosrevenge.wordpress.com/2012/11/25/desire-a-poetic-trilogy/
Playing Ghosts:
https://marcellosrevenge.wordpress.com/2013/04/10/playing-ghosts-a-poem/
marcellosrevenge 
Hope didn’t ‘arrive’ too quickly.>KB
Ha ha ha! He probably did. Oh Mr Slim…
I liked this alot, the rawness of it. I think it has a tightness I haven’y seen before that I recall, perhaps because it was so focused on an event, events. Thr foirst screwing in a poe,m that I thought came outr classy, saucy and natural–didn’t miss a beat–no pun intended. >KB
Thanks. I think you put my intention in writing it perfectly, wanting to keep it raw but at the same time classy, and not let it overpower the poem.
You suceeded admirably my friend. When it comes to poetry, I am still somewhat of a prude, ‘hot sweaty joints of flesh’ is racy to me–my quote. But I’ve been away so long.
Quite nice!
Thank you!