The Spectator
Carla used to watch us
fuck her girlfriend Laurie
who was about the only female
our age not in love
with Carla’s brother Rocco.
Laurie had a guy named Jerry’s
initials carved in each thigh
with glass although she’d only
had him once before his girlfriend
got wind and slapped her around.
We’d all been on our knees begging
Carla for some pussy
and she was so fine a whiff
would have been something
to cherish forever.
But she kept it to herself
and no one would get rough
knowing brother Rocco’s temper.
Pounding along the Jerry scripted
highway we always did our best
for Carla and were sure she treasured
her spectator days and used lessons
learned from one or all our lays
to win the Mafia guy she later married.
We never imagined any initials
on those thighs
that were too fine for us.
And we hoped the toy poodle
jumping around in her lap
when she waved from her new
red Cadillac convertible
didn’t mark them up any either.
Prince Charming
Lucas was the master when
I cooked second shift shoe soles
three ovens at a time
the year Winchester Cathedral
and Mellow Yellow were big
on the radio
I was the worst,
blistering the sons of bitches,
cutting hell out of my fingers
trimming the excess off the sheets.
Had not Lucas pitched in
I would not have lasted
the three weeks I did.
He’d have done the same
for anyone as clumsy I bet
but I figured us growing
up on the same street and all.
When I was a teen I heard
him tell his pal about a girl
he knew who had a snapper.
Just put it in and the rest
was automatic.
I reckoned that experience
was behind his terminal good cheer.
I pictured women slipping
on shoes equipped with his second
shift soles blessed on the spot
with that legendary action.
Thomas M. McDade is a former plumbing industry computer programmer residing in Fredericksburg, VA. McDade is twice a U.S. Navy Veteran.
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