Two poems

do not leave chewing gum in water fountain

when the warden on duty passed the empty ketchup bottle,
the day was already pretty much a wildebeest of molasses.
he'd just seen sexy jake and jake's 4 sexy pals suck each
other off. he'd seen the sky turn from blue to black
to pink, and then back to blue. he'd seen earthlings
outnumbered by extraterrestrials 3 to 1, and,
when the next fleet of spaceships arrived,
it was only 2 p.m.
**
the warden turned around, picked up the
ketchup bottle, removed the lid, and
sniffed inside. smelled like
ketchup, with just a hint of
malfeasance. when he sure no one was
looking, he slipped it into his
pocket, and everyone just thought
he was walking around with a hardon.
**
later that night, when he was
off-duty,
the french fries were the best
he'd ever had.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem appeared in Chiron Review, Issue #97, Autumn 2014.)

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soul

while the cattle are lowing,
two big strapping farmboys are up in
the hay-loft fucking each other.
a few minutes later, the two big strapping farmboys
lie there naked beside each other
staring up at the roof and feeling
the warm summer air rushing
across their hot shimmery sweaty bodies
from the two big windows at
either end of the hay-loft.
the cattle continue lowing.
"good night for it," says one sexy farmboy to
the other.
"yep," says the other sexy farmboy. "sure is."
then they kiss each other big-time wet and sloppy,
tongues down the throat, the whole bit.
the cattle go right on lowing.
the breeze goes right on rushing from one big open
window to the other big open window.
"let's do it again" says one sexy farmboy.
"ok" says the other sexy farmboy.
and so the two sexy naked farmboys fuck,
and one of 'em spurts
cum up the other's ass, and at the exact
same time one sexy farmboy is spurting cum
up the other's ass, the sexy farmboy who's
getting fucked is so turned on he's spurting
cum himself--goes splat splat splat right
there onto the hay-covered floor of the loft.
"god" they both say at that exact same moment when
both of them are spurting cum. "oh god."
the cattle are lowing.
the breeze moves through the loft.
the two sexy naked farmboys roll apart
and stand up and stare at each other
naked and hot and sweaty.
"god," they both say. "lordy."

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book SALINE, published by Interior Noise Press in 2014. The poem first appeared in Chiron Review Issue #84, Autumn 2008.)