Slapped by David Boski

“Slap my pussy,” she said,

as I kneeled above her, 

staring down at her naked body.

I happily obliged her request

and later on, as I was about to fall asleep

I thought of all the other men out there.

men who made more money than me

men who had better jobs

and better cars

men who had wives

and men who owned homes

men who were nicer than me 

smarter than me

funnier than me

better looking than me

tall men, short men, fat men, thin men,

muscular men who loved working out.

all kinds of men from all over the world

who went to bed that night

without having slapped a pussy…

and I felt good 

and momentarily 

everything seemed all right.

David Boski lives in Toronto. His poems have appeared in: The Rye Whiskey Review, The Dope Fiend Daily, Horror Sleaze Trash, Under The Bleachers, Down in the Dirt, Beatnik Cowboy, Winamop, Ramingo’s Porch, Cactifur, North Of Oxford and elsewhere. His chapbook “Fist Fighting and Fornication” is out now and available through Holy&intoxicated Publications.