Manhattan Midnight Moonlight

 Manhattan Midnight Moonlight

"Listen," you say," it's the worst case of
blue balls I never go this long
with out it."

You say, "How do you do it."

You mean me
being over thirty never
married, your manhood
suspect by, aunt's, grandmother's, divorcee's.

Saying always," I know this nice girl."

You say, "Your problem is, you place women
on pedestals give them
the top and
they'll hurt you."

Me saying, "I don't view all women
as my semen receptacles,"
"Listen," you say, "I love my wife,
it's just that I get tired of it,
being the same sometimes,
I just want it to be different."

Me jotting down the phone numbers
from a seedy pamphlet
lit by the dim lights on
the Staten Island Ferry
watching  the crashing waves by
Ellis Island's  Statue  of Liberty.

Little pink nipples peering
through black leather bras
crotch less pantied women wielding whips
captions reading Dominique, Desiree,
Master Card and Visa accepted.

Riding graffiti filled subway cars
into Times Square,
stumbling drunk down cracked concrete sidewalks
cramming quarters into black plastic phones
seeking my idea of getting lucky.
Abandoning the search to purchase
a shish kebob from a man with a hibachi
in the Manhattan Midnight Moonlight.

You saying,"It's probably dog meat."
Then a panhandler's blues saxophone wails.