TFLN Poem - Dorm Sex, Debate Skills

Hey.

Here's this week's www.textsfromlastnight.com poem.

(202):

Is 36 too old to fuck a college student? THIS IS BOTH IMPORTANT AND TIME SENSITIVE

I’m in the cab, Simon.

Got maybe twenty-six minutes left to reason me down.

Otherwise, I shutter off the phone,

Pop a Tic-Tac,

Make it to her dorm,

Spend the weekend straddling the top of a rickety twin bunk bed.

Fighting for dominance with her stuffed animals.

Rules. Of course.  I know – divide in half, add seven.

And that gives me, what?  26? 25?

Sex math’s hard.  And fact upon fact,

By mid-twenties,  (twenty-one minutes,

And no, don’t play the dignity card –

That’s like trying to start a fire

With wet leaves)

Women wise up.  Seek more.  See that ramshackle

Stare on my face, see me as a tourist of

Human experience.    (sixteen minutes, Simon –

You’ve got to really flex your rhetoric, buddy.

Been a dry spell.  Some goddamn

Annus horribilis )

And if love’s a tomb of compromise,

If I still, years later,

Wake ragged, screaming,

And I justify yesterday’s hateful word,

Each blow.  Each artful punishment.

Clearly, something deserved and true.

If there is no anger in response to that decade,

That child who earned no comfort or protection,

But only a well of manicured sadness,

Then let me live as a charming ghost.

I'll cope.

Be of service.

Entertain. Whisper.  Listen.

Hold court and self-protect.

It’s time.   I’ve paid the fare.

There’s a spittle of snow starting.

Too hot to stick.  Just makes a flitter and melts.

Talk soon.