Don’t Imagine That If You Wait Long Enough, Something Will Happen
BY JEAN TUCKER
After one a.m. on the Virgin channel
two brunettes in luscious undulation,
nearly identical except
that one wears a black, the other a leopard-print thong.
They remove each other’s bras
like gardeners freeing prize dahlias from the bindweed.
The breasts of one are tawny globes, the other’s
tilt slightly heavenward.
Their liquid motion has all the urgency
of Sisyphus matching himself at billiards.
And the background music —
synthesized vibes and coos —
is a lawn sprinkler forgotten on wide sweep
while the owners are off for the weekend, perhaps
feeding their two rolls of quarters into the slots
or dancing with strangers in the Galaxy Lounge
or at the bottom of a gully,
pinned upside-down in their Durango,
the wheels still spinning.