Cheap & Easy
I am a slut.
I am a dirty & nasty slut.
I am the most disgusting, dirtiest, nastiest slut imaginable.
I suck the cocks of anonymous men.
Those anonymous men with their anonymous dicks
suck and beat me off.
I let them and love them for it.
With my number written on a tuft of tissue paper,
I slide it in the pocket of their shirts as they blow me.
I know they will never call.
They only want one thing out of me
And I dont mind.
I dont have to take them home with me.
They will not be introduced to my parents.
I cruise the bathrooms of colleges, malls and parks.
O, the urinals I have licked.
I have gotten arrested for my rabid sexual appetite.
I cant help myself.
I am a faggot.
I like to have sex with lots and lots of men.
I cannot imagine myself settling down with one man.
I wonder at times if I will ever settle down.
I have butt-fucked two men from what I can remember.
One named Collin, the other named Dale.
I dont have any sexually transmitted diseases.
I am disease free.
I am cheap & easy.
Im a whore.
I dont have any friends.
I am a white mans fantasy.
I have a big black dick.
I like having oral sex.
Men say I can really fuck.
I swallowed semen once
but I knew the boy well.
We worked together.
He was straight.
Hes married now.
We messed around on Sunday afternoons at a pet store he worked at.
He was safe.
I like it rough.
I like to get beat up.
I like rim jobs.
I am a slut.
I write my number on bathroom stalls looking for head.
I seek blowjobs.
I have never been fucked in the ass.
I went home with a guy I met at a pick up bar.
His name was Kenny.
He was British.
He bought me a dirty martini.
His cock was big.
It was pierced.
He spent the whole night trying to fuck me.
He used a weird kind of tool to take the piercing out.
It felt just as strange hitting the roof of my mouth.
He said he was sorry for trying to fuck me without a rubber.
I thought I was bleeding from the butt when I got home.
I am an anal virgin.
I left him in bed snoring.
I wrote down my number on a carbon copy of an old bill.
He asked me not to steal his computer.
I should have taken it and pawned it.
I saw him a year later outside of Rite-Aid, but pretended I didnt notice.
I am a tight ass.
I am a self-loathing whore.
Men think Im French, East Indian, African.
I am American, southern, a Floridian.
I came to New York to go to graduate school.
I have graduated and now I want to be a drag queen.
I want to be a bartender.
Im sick of Manhattan.
I want to live in Brooklyn.
Williamsburg or Park slope.
I am a slut, a self-loathing whore.
The last ass I ate belonged to an Italian named Paul.
We met at the Hangar.
He said I was cute when I got up the nerve to go over and say hello.
I wasnt so attracted to him when he opened his mouth.
We cuddled sitting on the same stage where go-go boys shuck their asses,
fondled their dicks in fishnet g-strings.
We talked about Queer as Folk.
He took me home.
He had three dogs.
I drank coconut rum.
I let him know that I wasnt getting drunk to be with him.
He said, I hope not.
He had a way about him.
I ate and fingered his butt.
We held each other in bed.
He had a blue room and a pink room.
He was unemployed when we met.
He never called.
I was pissed.
I am cheap and easy.
I will do the first dude I see.
Mark from Jersey.
His thighs were hard.
He was built and thirty-five.
He kissed me long, strong and deeply.
I thought he was trying to eat my tongue.
We made the bouncer horny with our kisses.
He dirty danced between my legs.
I got wet.
I stuck my hand down his jeans.
I felt what had to be his dick.
He was erect and wet down there.
I recommended we go back to his place.
He asked me why.
When he asked why, I knew I was unworthy to be taken to his home.
He kissed me goodnight on the corner of Christopher and Seventh.
I thought he was the one.
I saw him months later standing outside of Urban Outfitters.
I like old men.
Much like I like Ron who ate my sweaty ass in a rim chair.
It was wintertime.
We met through Craigslist.
He sent me a picture of his balls in leather restraints.
He was rough with me.
I liked it.
I still cant put my finger on where hes from.
I tweaked his nipples while he ate my butt.
He really did a number on me.
I went home sore.
He fingered my pussy.
In an e-mail the next day, thanking him for a great time, he said I was tight.
I am a tight ass.
I am nasty.
I like it raunchy.
He bit my ears.
He sucked me off.
I was supposed to come by on a regular basis.
He said my ass was good and ripe.
He was supposed to give me a g-string to wear for at least a week
and I was supposed to bring it back and let him sniff it.
I want to give him a pair of my rank, soiled, shit-streaked undees.
He e-mailed me two months ago to ask if it was too late.
He wanted to eat my ass again.
I havent found a man like him yet who can eat my ass the way he did.
He has a round, pink bathtub.
He has a big iron stove in the living room.
His apartment is fabulous.
The thought of him makes me horny.
I am a slutwhorebitch.
You can have your way with me any way you want.
Im not picky.
I am not shallow or superficial.
I am cheap and easy.
I aim to please.
Shane Allison was born and raised in the U.S., more specifically, in Florida.
Even more specifically, in Tallahassee, which is the capital of Florida,
surprisingly. He started writing poetry when he was just a 16-year-old baby
who knew nothing about the world. Writers who influence him the most include
Allen Ginsberg, Anne Waldman, Langston Hughes, Nikki Giovanni, Sonia
Sanchez, Denise Duhamel, Walta Burowski, and others scattered throughout
literary society. His Pushcart-nominated poems have been published in
Mississipi Review, New Delta Review, Coal City Review, The Fifth Street Review,
Velvet Mafia.com, Suspect Thoughts.com, Blue Food, Lynx Eye, and many others.
His chapbook, Ceiling of Mirrors, is out from Cynic Press and his new chapbook
is a work in progress.
“Cheap & Easy” is my version of a day-to-day diary entry. I hate
keeping a journal in which I write about everything I did that day. So
I figured out a way to write it while maintaining that poetic element. I
have a few others like this I wrote in New York.
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