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Boots and Bikers - two poems
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Subject: Boots and Bikers (two poems from M.B.)
It's kinda nice, just sitting here,
chewing the fat and drinking beer,
but buddy boy, this is the thing:
my boots sure need some polishing.
Yes, *now*. A boot slave on the floor,
I guess they've all seen *that* before.
Look, fucker, if it's not your scene,
run tell your ma your topman's mean.
She might have sympathy for you,
but I've got other things to do.
There now, I knew you had the stuff.
You see? It wasn't all that tough.
So what if everybody stares?
The topmen wish these boots were theirs.
The bottoms are all jealous now,
and piss on those guys anyhow.
Boot-worshipper, you're pretty hot,
and by the way -- you missed a spot.
This events in this second one never happened. Trying such a thing
in real life (even if the opportunity arose) seems more likely to
result in the narrator having the shit beaten out of him. I have a
similar fantasy about seeing this poem reposted on rec.motorcycles.harley.
As a fantasy, it's exciting to think of a bunch of Harley riders reading
it and knowing what I fantasize about. In real life, it would probably
generate a bunch of hate mail, and nothing else. The the poem itself
was inspired by a real ad for a bumper sticker or shirt which I saw
several years ago in Easy Riders or someplace like that. (I like to
look at naked women on motorcycles as much as the next guy.) It read,
"Honda riders give better head. Ask any Harley rider." The memory
obviously stuck with me.
A biker's T shirt caught my eye
as he rode slowly, proudly by.
The message on the T shirt read
that "Honda riders give good head.
Ask any Harley man." I rode
my Honda back to his abode.
I'd followed him impulsively,
in shock and incredulity
at my own daring recklessness,
but frankly I was powerless.
My doubt was short-lived. We arrived.
He stood there grinning in the drive.
He watched me with unblinking eyes,
no hesitation, no surprise.
He'd seen me follow, and he knew
just why I'd come, and what I'd do.
"Come in," he told me graciously.
"You're just the guy I want to see."
Inside, he offered me a beer.
"We both know that's not why I'm here."
I knelt down and unzipped his fly.
The time was past for being shy.
I rolled a rubber down his shaft,
then fell to practicing my craft
and satisfied his urgent need.
I give great head, as he agreed.
We drank some beer, after he came.
I gave him seconds of the same
and when I headed out the door
he'd given me that shirt he wore,
and now my hottest fantasy
is having some 'Glide follow *me*.
Copyright 1992, The Minstrel Bi
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