Communion with the Last Whore

My excuse is
I was mugged by my own high sexual appetites
click
followed clack
then after we landed
that awful butt naked giggle
the boredom you could never explain to your wife
let alone your Mom
at least not while she was still alive

The wind on an ancient drum
drives nails into my head
until I wonder where the weight of the cross will fall
it shivers through the palms as I slump at my desk
keys mourning silence
churning words into flesh
rusting like internet grave moss
from a grinning desert of porn

A meanness of sirens
slaps a watery block away
I walk where mermaids thighs rot  
and a roll of fog pets death
while open legged shameless
& brazen in the bay
the rocks
are always Florida randy
whatever the time of day

They draw me to them
in full bloodied strum
the stickiest Jezabel lips
a crush of blind nestlings
foaming open mouthed  
their pulse of bulging eyes
greedy to fuck your brains out

Lizard fingers strangle a prayer
pumping up life to free the soul
conjuring cock
to glide down throat
polishing jewels
for the sleaziest crown of thorns
until the last slit-skirt on earth
has shaved her gash
grabbed the cash
and morphed herself into bagels
to be baked and swallowed and chewed
with no way to stop
what's inevitable as breakfast

Cindy sprays recycled Thunderbird over my belly
smiling down at the ocean that's burst between us
musing for a moment
I'm some kind of God out of season
until she fingers my ass in the hotel lobby
before moaning a whore's goodbye
upsetting everyone we'll never meet again in heaven

And maybe that could be the reason
they ban me from reading these poems
at my library back home