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i haven’t seen any
good porn lately
oh baby, oh baby
who cares


i’m Silver-Surfing around Uranus
leaving my traces,
as we zoom out to the vastness of space –

there’s one old account still active:
a beacon;
a still, moldy vessel for public lice
with all the water-under-the-surface secrets of a
dirty-minded twenty-something’s
compulsionary vice,
frozen in time


and nothing’s going off there, either.

it’s not for lack of invocation:
putting on my web goggles;
tightening my gloves
like i’m the Baron, speed-cracking my knuckles,
despite no chance against Snoopy like
Charlie versus Lucy.
that’s a thousand hours of dedication
i could have poured into anything else.

but what did i have in prospect?
i’m sure the ladies in those old EP tapes
of Dad’s were equally rough,
but no one’s that interested in 4K remasters
of eighties’ porn
are they?
only those doing the remasturbating.


somedays i’ll lie in bed on a school night –
work night, church night,
good night, whatever –
without a stiffy in sight,
when all of a sudden, my head’s a buzzin’
and an image flashes through my mind…
yes, i see them now…
Strauss in the background…

here they come…
never fast enough…

Kubrick did like his long shots…


breasts!

there they are…
the big, beautiful breasts
of the chick at the desk
of the place where i did my 2021 taxes!
i even told my wife they were kick-ass and –
since that’s its own form of hymeneal license –
now i’m restless on my side of the mattress,
three years in a blink
like i’m rippin’ passed Io,
the Great Red Spot piercing the glare in the windscreen
’cause who else am i gonna tell but all the other monoliths out there
floating in the vacuum of this web address?

“whooaaaaaa!!!
fuck off! i’m trying to sleep!”

trippy-ass colours whizzing by me
as i dig shut eyelids further into my pillow
looking for a comfortable position to settle down
lest i’m up again and practicing my onanism.
i hope Dave Bowman likes Costco rotisserie
trapped in Infinity 
with his masterbatables and gravy!
no one paid attention to what he was eating
in the last ten minutes of that movie:
something green with a protein.

that’s why now i think
these puerile fixations have gone
the way of the Sirenia:
i get more joy from NPCs
without dialogue trees
than i do these barely-legal avatars.

//wd 10.12.2024

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Photo by Rodrigo Santos on Pexels.com.