cranberry juice spritzer with twist of vodka pete, please

the swig and swagger of broad back and
big floppy cock and sexy tiny-nippled
chest--these were the things he noticed
as he sat, benched, eyes fixed
and roaming like lust-starved bulls,
targeting for zoom-in close the
great faces and naked
well-delineated-striated-style-
skinny-smooth-
tongue-tip-tasty
bellies  
of sexy near-naked young men,
the cries of seabirds and the aerial
drift of cloud surfaces the pandemonium
center, the source of silent guttural
growls emanating from close to the back
of his throat, but, more likely,
from the very center of the
longing center that spread from
his chest-central, and crept on
down toward the realm of his
genital cockwad-minded ballsiness,
his heart going thump thump thump,
the sounds lost in the seascape
of bending skin and flexing muscle,
sinew tight but yet well lubricated
thoughts racing and flexing as only found
in the knees and the elbows anatomy
a shrill song of precision run amuck
on the landscape and
quagmire of neo-spunky and
quick-fingered transcendent desire.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem first appeared in FUCK!, June 2006, Vol. 9, No. 6.  It also appears in my book String Bean.)