 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 don’t move Perhaps you don’t know what to do But you don’t move So, out of some bizarre sense of MOMENT I turn my head and kiss your
neck
And you tense a little But you don’t move And you don’t speak
But then you do move And it isn’t 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.
It’s 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 hustler’s time.
John’s money was a lump in my pocket. Someone casually said to me once that anybody can be a hustler. But any hustler knows that’s
not true.
But at the time it felt pretty good. and habits are hard to break. It’s 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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