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I don’t know how to fuck

brian daly


goddammit! Tenderness creeps in.
I can’t keep pumping scum
into this girl that I am with.

* * *

We park sleazily
in a Kroger lot, beer
in a paper sack.
I run the heater
when she shivers.

She tells me tales
of her Virginia kin
(coal mines...dozen kids),
makes me laugh
to hear her busted
for squatting in
some dark school yard:
“Lord have mercy!”

* * *

Later we lie
neath a wall-mounted Christ while--
eyes closed and smiling faintly--
she languidly pumps my tool.

But half the fun is gone. Looks like
I done run out of luck.
She says I kiss real good. Wish I
remembered how to fuck.



Scars Publications


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