prick

the taters are on the couch, and
it's raining outside, and the
taters are blended into a position
between a snuggle and a doze,
and the tv is on, and the light
is soft and muted and the
sound isn't harsh, but
it isn't pretty either.
**
outside, the taters's skinny
sexy son is hidden in the
bushes outside the
den window watching the
taters sleep/snuggle in front
of their tv
on their couch.
**
soon, the taters's son is taking
off his shirt and feeling
the cool drops of rain on
his back and shoulders.  it
is a hot night, and air
conditioners everywhere
in the neighborhood are
purring like cats.
**
soon, the taters's son takes off
his pants and is kneeling there
on the ground outside the taters's
den window while his parents
the taters are
sleeping/snuggling on the couch
in front of the tv.
**
the rain falls gently on his
naked back and shoulders and
legs; his underpants are tight
and white and under their
clinging dampness is revealed
quite sharply the outlines
of the big hard smooth erect dick
and smooth tight balls of
the taters's mostly-naked
son as he crouches outside
the taters's window in the warm
summer rain.
**
his parents the taters whimper
softly and move slightly closer
to each other on the couch.
the taters's skinny sexy big-dicked son
begins to cry. he stands up
wearing only his revealing underpants
and his tennis shoes and he walks
into the middle of the backyard.
he stands there staring up into
the rain, crying, thinking
about the possibility of his
own suicide and about jerking off
in the rain, and he strips off
his wet underpants and stands
there in the middle of the
backyard jerking off in the
warm summer rain; when he spurts
cum, it falls hot and slimy
like slugs mating on the wet grass.
**
then he puts his wet underpants
back on, returns to the
window outside the den
with the tv in it, retrieves
his wet shirt and wet pants and puts
them back on with considerable
difficulty. he stands there
outside the den window looking
at his parents the taters as they
snuggle/sleep in front of the
tv on the couch in the
den in the wet darkness
of the hot summer night.
**
the taters's smooth sexy
son seriously considers
methods by which suicide
might be accomplished, then
goes to the back door,
unlocks it quietly,
enters the kitchen,
takes off his shoes,
leaves them by the door,
and grabs a handful of
meat from the refrigerator.
he stands there in the
middle of the kitchen
gnawing at the handful
of meat, and he growls
and growls and growls,
but nobody
wakes up.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem first appeared in The Quirk, Issue 2, approximately 2008. The Editor of The Quirk was Kaveh Akbar.)