9. The Horny Heart

Once I wandered newsstand aisles
like Stewart Granger in
King Solomon's Mines, my
quest for gold rarer and
more common than Element X:
skin. I sought skin, and
my younger heart beat fast when
the prey was spotted. Near
extinction then
(this was before the
fuckers' flood), the quarry could
be found only in grainy, air-
brushed pamphlets of
the American Sunbathing Ass
ociation. I tended those caught
with the close care given to
day to pandas, Ridley's Sea
Turtles and the like.
Finally sated by these
and other, un-air-brushed,
three-dimensional amuse
ments, the horny cock
grew flaccid and al
most friendly (at times),
only to be replaced by a
hornier heart, with plead
ings more urgent, more
desperate than the jock
ey-straining swellings
of thirteen-year-old night-
street testicles and
wee dicks grown of
a sudden big enough
to get caught in zip
pers. This heart now prowls
bookstores filled with prat
tle from a thousand d-minus
"students," and prowls,
and prowls, and swells e
ven now at the thought
of naked soul truth laid
bare, oh rarer, rarer
prey than those antique
folds of flesh
on proud display.
Beware of angel zippers.

Next>>

Back to Akt

Magellan's Log IX

Magellan's Log front page