Jim Elledge’s “Mister” hears somebody else having sex. Silliness and sorrow ensue.
MISTER, THE ACCIDENTAL
“Spank me, papi. Spank me with luv”—not friends
but strangers whom Mister hears through the wall
(their tongue universal). To clear his mind,
doesn’t work. (Context is all, he’s said.) He
adds Lilith to the mix. Still a no-go.
Mister’s mind wanders, then his body writhes
as he pictures a chorus line of guys
who stroll along the beach. From Eduardo
(lithe and latte) to blond, green-eyed Johnny
—names he gives bodies that he never met.
Then something—a growl, giggle, groan—clicks, and
long into the night and without a lull,
Mister’s a candle burning at both ends.
Interested in submitting poetry to The Good Men Project? Check out our guidelines.