Agrarian Sex (Hey, Rube)

Snippets: Horizontal Barn-dance

—moonlight-slice across barn floor, Johnson’s Miller-little-sister-fuck, skin, bone, pale white, performance-silent, shame-feeling for my want, but scared to…

—she passes note, sit with me on school-bus, panty-less feel-up, note-drop, teacher-find, principal-pass, no-nonsense paper-trail…

“barn-meeting, hand between her thighs, said she always wanted me, teased about once passing up easy lay, unchanged in her performance — skin, bone, pale white and strangely silent”

in th’ background The Dung Beetles on th’ Kozmik Muzak:

Hey, Rube, don’t be so sad,

See a sure thing, go on and get her.

Remember, she let you into her pants,

Now you can screw and worry later—

Cutaway: Oh, Bull

During the rut, we put up hay hefting bales onto the battered red flat-bed Ford (or was that red-hatted Ford Johnson flat on the bed rutting with Miller’s little sister—while I tossed up hay-bails?). We’d tease the barnyard bull by bellowing challenges to his crown as king of the cows. He’d answer, churning up chunks of sod and then running full bore toward us just halting inches from the barbed-wire fence. God! If he could have gotten to us he’d have trampled and gored us to hamburger. We’d be barnyard dust—

Cutaway: Young Sad-sex Saturday Night

—on the old-torn truck seat, door open to house view (why not other truck-door away from?), dim porch-light yellow-glare bathing, plaid-dress hiked high, panties at ankles, ghost-white frail thighs, pale-pink pussy-wink, waits to see which—

—Boone-I look at each other, he throws furtive guilt-glance toward house (see from window?), shrugs, climbs up high-cab truck into gloom, bent-starlight and porch-glow casting funereal pallor (parlor?), bare white butt-pumps—

—clambers down quick, checks house, nods to me with outhouse rat-grin, look at skinny-young-gal legs, say “Aww, nah, can’t, don’t wanna—, turn from parlor-gloom, from doomed-if-I-do, dark funk of it all, l’il boy first-fuck futility”

Snippets: Saga of BJ Appleknockers

—newkid at school, gotta meet BJ, cutest girl in class—

—gotta see her knockers, nobody else’s got ’em—

—should be her boyfriend, everybody says—

So on and so forth, etc., push the shy-guy, and me not knowing come from get-outta-here, but me-BJ boy-girlfriend on kid-loaded bus with all eyes goggling (whyn’t ya put yer arm-around? ya scared? aw, ya chicken-shit—) and now couldn’t if wanted to (I wanta; wanta touch those apple-ripe breasts)—

Me-BJ Boone-Sue in the apple-barn, trying to rev-up courage for a kiss, he says “go first” and I want to say “yer the big girl-layer, why so chicken?”, say “no, you” clamp lips tight, afraid to look at BJ, afraid to look at anything, and nothing happens—

—best legs on the cheer squad, twirls felt-like littleskirt doing yellskit showing slick panties—

—long-lanky, pony-tail tossin’, heart-break causin’ high-school beauty-queen—

And his name’s Brian, older brother’s classmate, sports-star with Tab Hunter looks (remember? look him up online why dontcha?), BJ-him hold-hands, leans into her, says “like to see you in that without your blouse—, her in small-strap jumper with virgin-white blouse under—”

—made to perform rally-skit in front of student-body (sea o’ faces watchin’, shit!) cuz bopped Ms. Alison with Pink-Pearl when aiming at Mike and there in the crowd sits BJ Appleknockers (acourse), but do a good-funny skit, all laugh clap me on back, and later on game-bus BJ sits across from, presses a goodleg up-tight with mine, says “didn’t know you were so funny”, smiles, and Oh, those BJ-memories from back so many youngfool funny-my-ass achey-years, and what the hell ever went right back then—

Cosmic Camera: Sex #2

Close-up: sweated forehead, beads melding into beads, mini-rivulets—

Pull-away: shaky-hand stroking naked back, twisty-sheets, stifle-sunlight through pull-down shade, shadows shading body-hollows—

Wide-angle: motel second-story balcony, blister-hot asphalt, heat-plumping metal creak,—hopper-buzz, street car-whoosh, couples checking in checking out, couples checking under shades under sheets, couples checking couples coupling—

Panorama-view: city trailing into strip-mall pall of people-auto-semi rush, retail-trash, gasoline-pumps with wavy fume-funk, porn shops, porn stars, porn sites; cheating, lying, crying, pleading, living, dying; sound and silence; violence and pe—violence, violence—

Satellite-shot: buyers and sellers, cheaters and straights; Ponzi-schemes, not-what-it-seems, shattered dreams; shades of green, brown, blue washed by red o’ shame—