Monday, February 13, 2006

Dream On

Dream Jong

I dreamt last night that I was furiously bumping Erica Jong.
Not one of her infamous zipless fucks, but a rip-roaring,
Cock-teasing, cunt-thrilling, head-reeling, orgasmic love-and-suck.
(Like any pornographic fantasy, it was very precise.)
We wrote torrid poetry together across each other's backs,
Overwriting the goose bumps on the flesh, both of us
Pale and pink and blonde, getting too old too fast,
Obsessed as ever with just feeling good
And not finding it easy to do.

The dream was difficult, of course,
Not really knowing how she looks.
I only know her face from book-jacket photos
And previous erotic dreams.
I haven't "seen" her in eleven years now;
Even if she's much the same,
She's bound to've changed.
Maybe she's fat now and doesn't like to fuck,
Or enormously more intelligent than even she ever thought she'd be
and no longer even says the word fuck unless she's mad as hell
Or making some emphatic point.

Still I dream sometimes of being fucked by her,
Her blonde, frosty-blonde or maybe gray-blonde hair
Tossing to and fro, her wise, wide eyes looking at me as if
I'd offered to entertain her, and wasn't doing badly, at least so far,
Her eyes opening and closing rapidly as my fingers tickle her crotch,
Her puppy-dog nose flaring, and she's staring at me calmly and grins as,
Lazily, she opens her pale pink legs and says, "Show me what you've got!"

Then her big girlish mouth slowly opens, looking older,
And she laughs at me sweetly and looks at my cock
And reaches for it nimbly and then guides it in, saying,
"It's enough, I think, for what we have to do here,"
And I'm relieved, resolved to love her well,
Intent on our survival for at least one
Hour of delicious wacky dreams, determined to fuck her to orgasm
Until our bodies fall lovingly upward into a descendingly wicked dream.

Some day she may hear of this and be infuriated: a stranger
Being falsely intimate with her real fragility and strength.
Still I feel this connection strongly of one misfit to another.
She is always liberated and imprisoned, sexist and victim, confused
In a constant tumble of curving, discerning words, if only in my dream.
Maybe this was pretty zipless, after all. Sorry, Erica.


rcs.
5th draft: 02/13/06
©1995 Ronald C. Southern


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