Poem: The Gold Club
If there is a God, he abandoned that home
Just as I abandoned common sense
The pursuit of life
a gaudy parade of
Tiny puckered nipple
A captive audience
A willing body
Flashing lights and a club
raw sewage under the surface of my soul
If a man doesn’t hurt himself
does he exist?
Cash. Skin. White. Black. Cream and tan and everything in between.
What happens when they’re too old
to be exploited?