Poetry

Sex in Two Places

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 POETRY

 

Sex in Two Places by Michael Klein

Sex on the Train

I saw him sitting by himself.

I saw him reading a book I was reading, too.

He was in school. I was in school. We were taking a trip somewhere

without knowing each other. I think we were going to Vermont.

I sat down next to him.

The train kept making false starts and finally lumbered through

the night like a hungry, but slightly disinterested panther.

I looked down to his book and couldn’t read the sentence.

I looked down to his crotch and imagined that his cock was getting hard
      behind a story.

His cock is getting hard, I thought, because the combination of reading

and someone looking at you with passion is the sexiest thing.

I could see his cock tilt the book he was reading. It was getting hard.

The cock was tilting the reading because by this time

the book had become a blanket that was laying over the crotch.

The train was slightly dangerous and slightly cold. But all this
      warmth moving up between us.

I could say something now — seeing him sexily move back and forth

between the sentence and the hard cock. That all meant

I could say something now. About now.

It was okay to take my slightly shaky hand and put it under the book

where I found his cock and the rest of his mind and I said

Hello

Hello

Hello

until the panther rested — down so much — in the springy hills.


Drawings by Jean Cocteau