ah, those days when I
ran them
in and out of my
shabby apartment

god, I was a hairy
ugly 
thing

and I backed them
all onto the
springs

flailing 
away

I was the mindless
drunken ape
in a sad and
dying
neighborhood.

but strangest
of all
were the
new and continuous
arrivals:

it was a
female
parade

and 
I exulted
pranced and
pounced

with hardly
an idea
of what
it
meant.

it was a well-
remembered bed-
room
painted a strange
blue.

and
most of the
ladies
left just before
noon

about the time
the mailman
arrived.

he spoke to me
one day, “my god,
man, where do you
get them all?”

“I don’t know,” I
told him.

“pardon me,” he went
on, “but you don’t
exactly look like
God’s gift to
women, how do you
do it?”

“I don’t know,”
I said.

and it was 
true: it just
happened and I 
did it

in my blue
bedroom
with my
dead mother’s
best lace table
linen
tacked up
over the
window.

I was a
fucking
fool.