X and Y, a dialogue

This poem was based on the work of a young poet in Laura’s poetry workshop.
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X and Y, a dialogue

        "naked baby, naked baby...."
        Amy Trowbridge's "Tuesday Morning"

X:
We enter the room and you toss
your pathetic-looking cowboy hat on the pull-out
couch. You back up so your wide ass
is planted against the front door knob....
Are you afraid I might make a run for it?

        Y:
        You look at my apartment
        with a tinge of disgust
        on the tip of your nose, then stand
        by the open window--so everyone
        outside can watch us.
        This’ll really help my rep a lot!

X:
This is how you want it, down
and dirty (the room I mean)
and so I take off my top. You're
practically grinning and drooling
at the same time. You know the yellow tube
comes off next, and you can just taste it--
I bet you'd chew on it, if I let you.

        Y:
        I know you don't want to be
        here with me, but you made
        the bet and hey, you're no welcher,
        so I pull off my white t-shirt. I know
        the sight of my nearly hairless chest will
        make you hot.

X:
I can see your pointy nipples, alot like mine,
but puffy and scarred. I slip off the yellow
tube and watch your eyes get rounder than
your ass. What a jerk your are!

        Y:
        Your tits are not as big as I hoped, but
        hey, what the hell, beggars can't choose.
        I undo my belt, grab the two ends and
        snap them hard, with a loud crack!
        I bet that makes you wet.

X:
You definitely need that belt shoved
up your ass, and I'm just the one to do it.
As you struggle to undo your pants, I can truly believe
I am the first person on earth to get to
watch this horrorshow. Thank you God!

        Y:
        I shoulda took off the Nikes first,
        And the white socks, too. Oh, shit, now
        you look like you're going to throw up
        or maybe laugh, or both & shoot vomit out
        your nose, just like the party last night.
        At least I can look away
        while I struggle out of these bluejean pants.

X:
You have the grace & balance of a ballerina
with MS. You do the hop on one foot
looking like a wounded crane. JESUS,
what a loser. At least my black flip-flops
come off easy--and I have a little dignity left.

        Y:
        Should I leave the white socks on
        or not? What a thought. The last
        time I walked on the linoleum bare-
        foot I found a piece of gum with a
        single curly black hair stuck in
        it--now where could that come from?

X:
Now he slips off the dingy gray&brown streaked
fruit-of-the-looms, slow and sexy,
(at least he thinks so). With my
luck he'll be hung like a cat.

        Y:
        If she ignores the love-handles,
        the piercings on my nipples that
        went horribly wrong, the beer gut,
        the baby fat, and the dimples in all the
        wrong places, and even the too-
        long appendix scar... I may still
        stand a chance here.

X:
WELL, at least he's well-hung, unlike my
current boy-toy. The last time he
fell on me (when we were both drunk)
it was all over before I even knew
he was there.... oh, well.


        Y:
        She has her pink panties, slips them
        off so I can see that she is hygenic
        and neat, YES! I'm ready for a bareback
        ride. The sofabed is pulled open
        and we stand, facing each other, like
        chinese gymnasts in heat.

X:
This was the stupid bet,... that we could
run at each other, naked, leap in the air
and meet in mid-air. I know it was
a stupid bet, but I said I'd do it. And
our friends made some pretty big bets we
couldn't do it. I need to cut back on the booze.

        Y:
        I can feel the doorknob pressed
        against my ass. This is as far
        back as I can go and get a good
        running start. She's standing at
        the window & looks ready.


He's running.
She's running.

X:
Oh no!.......

        Y:
        Holy shit, we missed completely.
        I'm flying out of the goddam
        window and right into the
        blackberry bushes. Shit!
        that hurts. Shit. Shit. Shit.

X:
Damn that smarts! I landed on his goddam
sofa and the damn thing closed up on me.
"Hey somebody, call 911! Hey, Sissy! ....
Where is that little bitch when I need her!"