aisle 12 : Response to Jason F. Williams’ “by the eggs, aisle 12”

by the eggs,aisle 12

I tried not to
run her over,  and
succeeded.

When inside
the grocery store,
she saw me
carrying a bottle
of whiskey,  and
I saw her
carrying a container
of milk,  and
we knew it
would fail.

Response: 

aisle 12 

He nearly ran me over,
foot lead on the pedal, pure
sex.

Later in the grocery store,

next to the eggs, I reached for my 2%
And sealed my
die-alone-cat-lady fate
As he walked out with his bottle of
die-young whiskey.

Jason F. Williams

Love: A Poem in Four Parts

1.

I met Paul when I was newly

12–he had turned 19 that

frigid December.

 

My mother paid him

5 dollars an hour to

watch me–

 

undress.

 

 

                2.

 “This is the way 2

guys show their

love…doesn’t

that feel good?”

 

“Yes.”

 

               

                3.

When I was 15 –

I told my psychiatrist how Paul

had made me feel, and that girl

I fingered in the backseat couldn’t

make me –

 

cum .

 

               

                4.

 “I’ve really missed you

Paul.”

Combating Crow’s Feet

He smells like sex today, of sweat and musk.
His hair a mess, dark denim jeans too tight,
His mind captivated by thoughts of lust.

He left her after the rite of cutting crust
off burnt toast, methodically chewing each bite.
She smells of sex today, his sweat, his musk.

He had noticed the perfection of her bust-
firm and no more than a handful, just right.
His mind was reeling with thoughts of lust.

Her plump lips were painted heavily in rust
lipstick, smearing with every drunken bite.
She’ll smell like sex tomorrow, acrid sweat and musk.

He whispered in her ear how he would thrust
her deep and fuck her “real hard” all night.
Her mind succumbed to his desire for lust.

He imagined she wanted one to trust,
but she didn’t want him to be her white knight,
just wanted to smell like sex again, of sweat and musk,
enjoying the feeling, captivated by her lust.

Villanelle