Hands On

Halloween stores
Are running out of
Sad-faced masks.

Too many people own them,

That and bursting O-faces.

The agonized dramatic

Echoes ‘nonreturnable’ in a
Convinced nobody’s closet
Between fancy dresses
And Gatsby gloves
And a few OOOOOH’s.

“Oh, but it’s real ecstasy,

A man and a woman,
A man and three women,
The whole damned world population,
Real ecstasy.”

Ecstasy that leaves you

Standing in line for a
Customized latex pout
While pools of semen
Crust up your bed posts,
And nothing else.

So I’ve learned how

To get real ‘hats off’
Being real hands on
As the only person
In the room.

I’m good at it,

Self-pollination,
Letting the pollen swarm
Factory-fresh agonies.

It’s my greatest trick yet.