a rather odd Saturday afternoon

so i'm taking a nap
and suddenly the aging Olympian Mark Spitz
crawls into bed with me
and his hands are all over me -- embarrassingly so,
actually, since i'm no spring chicken anymore myself,
and things, have well, sagged, etc., but his
hands are nonetheless all over me and i say to him
"i'm pretty much over-the-hill, body-wise, and
what do you see in me?" and Mark Spitz replies
"i really dig your poetry. it's hot. i like
your poetry a lot."
and he rubs his hands all over my skinny not-very-muscular
chest and explores my belly button with one of
his finger tips.
**
my hubby walks into the
bedroom at that moment.  my hubby is not amused.
my hubby does not like Mark Spitz being
in bed with me. my hubby
says to Mark Spitz "get out of here right now!"
and to me, my hubby says, "and i'll have a LOT to say
to YOU later, buster."
my hubby has never ever called me "buster" and
his word choice is alarming.
**
Mark Spitz says to my hubby "i won 7 Olympic Gold Medals
in swimming, and this entitles me to certain
things in life, one of which is getting
to rub my hands all over Carl Miller Daniels' body
if that's what i want to do.  Carl's poems are
great. i really dig Carl's poems, and I really dig Carl."
**
my hubby says "FUCK! YOU! MARK! FUCKIN! SPITZ!!! GET THE
HELL OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!!"
**
Mark Spitz cops a feel to my aging but highly
excitable dick, and then he leaves, slamming
the front door behind him.
**
then it's just me and my hubby.  "how the
HELL did Mark Spitz get in here?" he asks.
i really don't know the answer to that one.
"i really don't know," i say.  "perhaps
the back door was unlocked?"
"hmmmm," says my hubby, a skeptical look
on his fuzzy face.
**
"ah well," i say. "at least he's gone
now, and it WAS kinda flattering, having
a great Olympic swimmer tell me he likes
my poetry."
**
"he's not even good-looking anymore,
is he?" says my hubby.
**
i quickly agree that Mark Spitz is
over-the-hill, and that he has not aged
at all gracefully. i say that Mark Spitz
is now flabby,
and things have sure sagged. also,
"he's put on weight" i add.
**
"we'll have to make sure to keep
that door locked," says my hubby.
"this has been a lesson to us."
**
"yes it has," i say. "yes it has."

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Saline, published by Interior Noise Press in 2014.)