I was once in love with a coworker who loved William S. Burroughs. One day, I bought a copy of Naked Lunch and read it at my desk between assignments. She noticed that I was reading it and said something about it--what, I can't remember, though it was probably something like, "Wow, that's cool! Did you know that I love Burroughs?" Another coworker knew that she loved Burroughs. That coworker also understood basic math, and was able to add two to two and come up with four, something the woman herself never did. (And yes, that's my own damn fault. However, the next guy she met after I fell for her wound up being the man she eventually married--not the first or last time that's happened. Keep this in mind: Having me fall in love with you guarantees the next guy you meet will be your true love.) Anyway...In Naked Lunch, Burroughs describes the Xiucutil as a "big grasshopper" reputed to be an aphrodisiac so powerful that if one lands on a man’s head, he must find a woman immediately or die. And that inspired this poem.
At some point my lungs
lose the ability to suck
in any more air and
therefore screaming in
ecstasy is no longer an
option and my throat
starts to make the most
excruciating delicious
wet noises just before
my forty-first orgasm
knocks more plaster off
the ceiling and satisfied
that my fate is now
pretty much sealed, my
green Colombian guest
takes flight from atop my
sopping head and doesn’t
wait around for the
chalk outline to arrive.
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