Mind Caviar Poetry

Warren Norgaard  is a single, twenty-nine year-old Arizona Native who has been writing and publishing poetry and short fiction since age sixteen. Warren is a trained massage therapist and an energy healer. He believes strongly in daily writing whenever possible, and uses the Internet community to publish online, in addition to print.  His previous publications include Sauce*Box, Oasis, Papier-Machete, Shorelines, Mind Caviar, and Many Waters. Other writings by Mr. Norgaard may be found on his Web site.

E-mail Warren Norgaard. Visit Warren Norgaard online.


A Bizarre Sense of Moment

I was just standing there

Looking at you

Also just standing there

And I was thinking

NICE ASS

Not realizing I had vocalized the thought

Until it was too late
 

All I heard was 

FAGGOT

And then you were turning

Arm in full swing
 
 

Without thinking

I reacted with my best

Tai Chi defense

Somehow recalling back

To when I learned these things

Age 10, at the Y

Who knew it would come in handy?
 

So there you are

Swinging at me

When I reach up

Take your angry fist

AND PULL

As you swing toward me

Causing you

To spin around
 
 

And before you know it

I am behind you

Pressing against you

Your fist having come

Full circle

To your other side

My arm wrapped around you

Pressing against your arm

Which is pressing against your chest

Which is heaving in confusion 

As your back

Which is stiff

Like my front

Which is stiff

Is pressed against

My stiffness

And my head

Is right next to yours

Pressing down on your shoulder

So I will know if you move
 
 

But you donít move

Perhaps you donít know what to do

But you donít move

So, out of some bizarre sense of

MOMENT

I turn my head and kiss your neck
 
 

And you tense a little

But you donít move

And you donít speak
 
 

But then you do move

And it isnít to pull away

But rather to press yourself

More firmly against me

Where by now

You must know

You have excited me

With your tight white wife beater tank top

And your loose fitting oversized blue jeans

Hanging so low on your hips

(I want to ask how they stay up

But I want more to take them down)

That I can see your boxers

Which are riding up

As dozens of miniature Scooby-doo characters

Peek over your waistline

Probably wanting to know

What we are doing

Which is probably

What we will be wanting to know

LATER

When we are getting dressed:

What are we doing?

Copyright © 2002 Warren Norgaard. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post.



On Becoming a Hustler

The first time I worked as a prostitute,

I was uptight and I punished myself for it,

Which is not the way to achieve an erection.

Two weeks later I did two jobs within six hours.
 
 

The man interviewing me said that no one expected me

To get an erection at the drop of a hat;

But would I let a paying customer suck my dick?

Yes, I said, I suppose I would.
 
 

Itís a loose life, and the nights are long.

The agent seemed to believe me,

And took down a measurement I was happy to accept.

In the bar downstairs we sat at a corner table
 
 

And John (I believe that was actually his name)

Put his hand on my knee, 

Which I noticed that several people were able to observe.

I spent just over two hours with John,
 
 

Including drinks and a trip to the deli.

(I had assumed that hustling was dangerous,

and no doubt some of it is.)

Most clients expect no more than an hour of a hustlerís time.
 
 

Johnís money was a lump in my pocket.

Someone casually said to me once 

that anybody can be a hustler.

But any hustler knows thatís not true.
 
 

But at the time it felt pretty good.

and habits are hard to break.

Itís a loose life, and the nights are long.

I would get bitten hard, or slapped,
 
 

And once I got a sharp elbow to my nose,

But that was an accident.

But would I let a paying customer suck my dick?

Yes, I said, I suppose I would.

Copyright © 2002 Warren Norgaard. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post.


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