Sinsere Poetry Photography 
and Creative Playground

How Many Licks?

How Many Licks?

I never preface my work

But then again

There are very few rules I actually play by…

This is a forced write, as in “no choice”

All day, decisions have been made for me

So I decided on my way home

To do this, give or take outcomes unwanted

This is probably going to suck

And not in the “blow job on a roller coaster” type way

But in the “can’t get to the gum, cause my cavities killing me”

Lollipop sort of way

 

 

I hit a dog in my truck, made an awful sound I probably won’t shake anytime soon

I remember two things, one: I told Danielle I wouldn’t take this road anymore

And two, shit… this truck is brand new

I thought about the dog third

What kind of guy does that make me?

Better yet

Do I care?

There’s a part of that road that takes you by a lake

It’s beautiful, which sounds gay, but fuck it

Too much shit is ugly

And I can’t help commenting out loud about it

Cue the slap to the shoulder

I just embarrassed us in public

 

I know what the road was thinking:

The dog should have hit me…

 

I wonder how many of my cigarette butts lie in the dust that sneaks to the side.

I smoke another and let the wind peel it from my tips

It bounces twice

And disappears

Music wasn’t an option today

Linkin Park just didn’t seem rational

If I wanted to scream, I had to do it myself

To the right

I saw the lake

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At work I attempt to avoid the inevitable

In this case, the inevitable is 5”7’

Jet black hair

Perky tits

Combat boots

And one of those G-strings that that tests a mans will power because for Christ Sakes

I can fucking see it

It left your pants, it’s in my face

And I want to lick it

 

Please God don’t let her bend down

 

Whispering to me while I ring someone up

Her breath on my neck leaves heat on a cold heart

I stumble and give the wrong change

The customers pissed

But so am I….

 

Doors close at eight

By nine twenty I’m knee deep in “nothing to gain”

We use pillows we hope to sell tomorrow to soften the ground

Bare assed, we try not to stain what we can’t afford

With so much to lose

We gain momentum

The rhythm gets lost in the lust

And it’s over before it began

I count the register in silence

And think about the dog

She looks at me for approval from over the counter

And like a good boss should

I tell her she can go

 

 

 

The drawer was off twenty dollars

I’m pretty sure the bitch ripped it off

Smiled as she left with gas money and a “who fucked who?” grin

I deserved it, and she was worth it

So I blame it on the previous shift

And leave a note

 

 

 

 

 

It’s dark

And I’m on that road again

The one I swore I’d stop taking

It’s unrealistically dangerous

Even a bad ass like me runs out of chances…..

One of these days I’m going to look at the lake too long

My gaze will linger and my truck will drift

And I won’t make it home

To make sure that I write

And somebody else will describe my demise…

They’ll attempt it poetically...

But something tells me they’ll preface it….

It will be forced…

They’ll have “no choice”….

And it’s probably going to suck…

In a terrible, terrible…

Lollipop sort of way

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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