6 To My Casual Lover, XYZ 1 Strophe Not I, not you, she and he -- they -- anonymous -- meet for a night, An hour, a second, in a second-hand store of stroking, second- Eye store of seeing, second-mouth store of kissing -- The original owner of goods Unknown. (They are annoyed both of staying alone, And of staying with someone for longer.) You and I Paid a full price for what was lost or stolen, still keeping The receipts; they paid a penny For what was discarded: your hand drawing me my face, my face Molding up your hand. She and he -- not you, not I -- they -- should touch each other only if They are protected by plastic -- A condom from tip to toe not to mix With each other, but simply rub each other in a pretension Of penetration, Rob each other of a penny, and not to leave fingerprints, treating Each other as a condiment to a daily diet, or Walky-talky-chewy-choky pieces of chocolate, peptic friends (Eat and forget!). They -- but not I and not you -- he and she -- two plastic dolls, Given up, Their mechanism almost broken, in a third-fourth-hand-store -- play When a salesperson turns them on, play, almost exhausted, the same Repetitive petty routine of poses, Play us, Play us sighing silence out, Play us tangled in a trembling, Play us exalted. 2 Antistrophe Simple. You masturbate with my body, My body being a tense extension Of your hands, mustard on your ham, bait You tie to catch your fish. Forget my name, And the same way you change your shirt, Change my face to keep it fresh. Even simpler: your body is my live and raving, brazen Turned-on vibrator -- Rapt in drilling, trapped in razing. You are a device I turn on, then always -- Off, The same way I use my hairdryer, or my iron, Or my vacuum cleaner. (Itís dangerous to leave An iron on, and stupid To leave a hairdryer on: a waste of power I produce To use you).







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IRENE C∆SAR
Returned Mail
Collected Poems

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