The Art of Tetman Callis Poems our latest cures

our latest cures

post-syphilis and pre-aids
long ago and far away, when there was nothing that couldn’t be cured
(gamma-globulin for the bed-bugs, hard liquor for the heartaches)
we would fuck at the drop of a drawer

those were the nights i slid my hard way
into runaround sue of the blue eyes and blonde hair
and the baby girl in the crib
and the cuckolded husband with lieutenant’s bars on his shoulders
cold warrior in a world frozen into the ice
of two great powers with atomic guns held to their heads
there was never a better time for fucking like there would be no tomorrow

now that tomorrow is here and we can see that it makes for no today
worth sliding between the legs of

into a sue so heavy in her middle age that she can scarcely move
her blue eyes crusted and bleared
blonde hair graying and cracked
her baby girl grown and gone, never to write home or even to call on holidays

the lieutenant promoted to captain, then on to colonel
silver eagles perched on his shoulders
before being cashiered when someone’s head had to roll
and his had always been convenient for sacrifice

but i slid my hard way into runaround sue
and i swear it happened on a golden morning, pre-aids and post-syphilis
when the world was ours ours ours and no war could take it from us
no war could distract us even for a moment, not even with the promise or the threat
of all our tomorrows flowing together without form or meaning in this our molten world
where our new diseases keep one step ahead of our latest cures

(Copyright 2023 by Tetman Callis.)

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