Eeksy-Peeksy

augury doggerel

Wednesday, December 04, 2002

Porn (Without Sex)

Last night, I come home and no one's there, so I kick off my shoes and make a cup of tea and eat leftovers and unbutton my pants and relax. I turn on the radio and it's jazz, man, mysteriously compelling but lame 1970s jazz. Cool bongos and bass snared in the baling wire of some damned Radio Shack kit synthesizer. Soundtrack jazz. Music for dirty movies.

My doorbell rings. It's the woman from upstairs, smiling, licking wet lips. Bongos in the background. She says that the guy had come to read the gas meter earlier and only my woman was not home, so the meter man and she had it not off in the hallway. He left this note that slipped down the steps and that she's handing me. I catch her not looking down at my pants, which I've not forgotten to button, and I don't invite her in for a fast, noisy one. Swelling synthesizer and throbbing bass.

I'm just relaxing again, not having a smoke and whisky, when the doorbell rings again. Shit. Now what? Bass thumping. It's a different neighbor this time, an older one wearing a fur coat and a skirt. She's just let my cat in the front door and wants me to know she's waiting for me hungrily in the stairwell.

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