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The Director

First off, the niceties, as he
double-clasps my sweaty hand with his
taut fingers and sniffles;
the barking dogs from the garden
and the rolled-up dollar bill
aside the thick vein of cocaine
on the kitchen counter.

Pleasure to meet you, he says.
You have amazing eyes, he says.

And the black leather sofa is
a casting couch as he unzips
the fly of his slacks and
peels off his t-shirt revealing
pectoral muscles, oozing charm
offers me a drink once, then again

but I decline, leaning in to
study the runway of hair that
extends from his naval;
and the bitter smell of starch
explodes in my mouth
unannounced and all-of-a-sudden

once in an era, like Halley's Comet
and the director runs his fingers
through his dark hair
and smiles the snaggletooth grin
which made him famous;

I can tell you're real, he says.
I hope I'm not keeping you, he says.

Scrubbing my hands and face
sloughing away the sin of the night
the director's scent on my hands;
You weren't what I was expecting, he said
tapping his foot and wiping his nose
his tongue violating my mouth and
he doesn't even have a part for me.

Author notes


Written September 26th, 2005

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Comments

  • Ms. Trick
    November 21, 2005
    Edit | Reply
    Something hopeless and happening anyway. Great write!

    trick

  • holloweyed
    October 25, 2005
    Edit | Reply
    Lovely piece of work! I was referred to you by a friend and you live up to her words! Great job!

  • Laurili
    September 27, 2005
    Edit | Reply
    this is gorgeous, alluring descriptions and a sense of wanting. simulateous is a feeling of unease, or uncertainty about the person/situation. it reads much more complex than the 'i-fucked-the-director-for-a-part' story line. like maybe any alterior motive is secondary to 'charming pecs'.
    i thought in the first stanza, 'the' was a little overused, it made the rythem revolove around it, which i am thinking was not the intent. read it over a few times and see what you think..
    regardless,
    i always feel satisfied after reading your work.
    l-.


  • MountainGirl
    September 26, 2005
    Edit | Reply
    Wow. i'm blown away by the imagery in this piece.
    And the black leather sofa is
    a casting couch as he unzips
    the fly of his slacks and
    peels off his t-shirt revealing
    pectoral muscles, oozing charm
    offers me a drink once, then again
    there's so much description in all of this.. i can almost use all my senses while reading this. The last stanza especially. Awesome write!