poem of the day 03.10.09

trick with ice

she did this trick with ice.
she filled up a cup with chipped
ice, and then laid on the bed
and had me push the slivers
in her with my tongue, while
i ate her out.
it wasn’t really a trick.
i suppose the “trick” was
the ice made her orgasm right away.
if there was a trick involved,
the trick was certainly mine.
after all, i did all the work.
but i didn’t really enjoy her
little dalliance with ice.
most of the time it numbed
my tongue
and when it didn’t the sensation
was lackluster.
her pussy was cold and salty
when the one cunt i knew before
had been warm and thick.
my cock didn’t feel right when it
was inside her either.
i couldn’t come no matter
how hard i pumped.
without the ice, i could shoot
jism like a hose.
but with it, i was frigid and limp.
maybe i was just inexperienced.
still, one day i asked her to stop
with the ice.
i said, “couldn’t we fuck like regular people?”
she got mad and slammed the ice cup
on my desk.
some of the chips spilled on my newest poems.
she said, “that’s how regular people fuck.”
and then she dressed quickly,
not embarrassedly but overt.
she was letting me know what i’d be missing.
she left the bedroom and pounded
down the steps.
i heard her talk to my roommate
before she slammed the front door.
from my room, i could hear her car door open,
the weak rev of the four-cylinder engine,
and the screech of tires as the car
tore up forbes avenue.
then i was alone.
it was just me and the cup of ice.
it was a hot day.
late june.
so i sat on the bed and ate each sliver,
even the ones soaking my writing,
as if i were a starving man.

05.04.06