my first experience in a whorehouse
was in Tijuana.
it was a large place on the edge of
the city.
I was 17, with two friends.
we got drunk to get our guts
up
then went on
in.
the place was packed with
servicemen
mostly 
sailors.
the sailors stood in long
lines
hollering, and beating on
the doors.

Lance got in a short
line (the lines indicated the
age of the whore: the shorter the
line the older the
whore)
and got it over
with, came out bold and
grinning: “well, what you guys
waiting for?”

the other guy, ]ack, he passed me
the tequila bottle and I took a
hit and passed it back and he
took a hit.
Lance looked at us: “I’ll be
in the car, sleeping it
off.”

]ack and I waited until he was
gone
then started walking toward the
exit.
Jack was wearing this big
sombrero
and right at the exit was an
old whore sitting in a
chair.
she stuck out her leg
barring our
Way: “come on, boys, I’ll make
it good for you and
cheap!”

somehow that scared the
shit out of ]ack and he
said, “my god, I’m going to
PUKE!”

“NOT ON THE FLOOR!” screamed
the whore
and with that
]ack ripped off his
sombrero
and holding it
before him
he must have puked a
gallon.

then he just stood there
staring down
at it
and the whore
said, “get out of
here!”

Jack ran out the door with
his sombrero
and then the whore
got a very kind look upon her
face and said to me:
“cheap!” and I walked
into a room with her
and there was a big fat man
sitting in a chair and
I asked her, “who’s
that?”
and she said, “he’s here to
see that I don’t get
hurt.”

and I walked over to the
man and said, “hey, how ya
doin’?”

and he said, “fine,
señor. . .”

and I said,
"you live around
here?”

and he said, “give
her the
money.”

"how much?”
“two dollars.”

I gave the lady the two
dollars
then walked back to the
man.

“I might come and live
in Mexico some day,” I
told him.

“get the hell out of
here,” he said,
“NOW!"

as I walked through the
exit
]ack was waiting out there
without his
sombrero
but he was still
wavering
drunk.

“Christ,” I said, “she was
great, she actually got my
balls into her
mouth!”

we walked back to the car
Lance was passed out, we
awakened him and he drove us
out of 
there
somehow
we got through the border
crossing

and all the way
driving back to
L.A.

we rode ]ack for being a
chickenshit
virgin.
Lance did it in a gentle
manner
but I was loud
demeaning ]ack for his lack of
guts
and I kept at it
until Jack passed out
near
San Clemente.

I sat up there next to
Lance as we passed the last
tequila bottle back and
forth.

as Los Angeles rushed toward
us
Jack asked, “how was
it?”
and I answered
in a worldly
tone: “I’ve had
better.”