« first in “Loser’s progress”     ‹ previous in “Loser’s progress”     Contents     next in “Loser’s progress” ›     first in “Heroes” »


“Take the happiest man, the one most envied by the world, and in nine cases out of ten his inmost consciousness is one of failure.”
   ~ William James, “The Sick Soul” in The Varieties of Religious Experience (1902)

Nerdy boy
Reject of rejects
Whether the more you try to comply with them
The more you lose
Never let them know
Just always show
For when they sense weakness
Whether they’ll jeer
Whether they’ll set you up for a fall
Whether they’ll move in for the kill
Or at least a hard swift kick to the ribcage while you’re down
You’ll never know

She’s the most attractive girl in this junior high
And here we sit
Side by side
Day after day
In this trailer that could’ve been called home
Converted to foreign policy classroom
She in her riveting cheerleading outfit
White legs stretching
Twin lanes into distance
What have I to show
Faced with this inconceivable tantalizing
Who needs a show
When we have near-front-row seats
Toward the end of class
Of a Friday now and then
When the greying teacher produces a metallic green fiddle
Plugs it into the trailer’s gravelly PA
Screeches out bluesy licks
Followed by a solo from “Devil Went Down to Georgia”
Says he played with those guys who’d made it famous
So what’s he doing yammering at punks in Podunk
Where I’m stuck an hour a day
Glancing at her
Gazing away
Doodling in my notebook
She never doodles back
Or glances
Or as I’ve not heard her sing or play an instrument herself
Whether she likes this or any other music
Whether she feels at home in this here dump
Whether she’ll ever deign to let anyone in
Or die a spinster
Happy never to have been much bothered by pesky guys
Like this fiddle-playing pedagogue or me
I’ll never know

Springtime brings all-city band
A chance to meet
Maybe even another weirdo hornist
Whaddaya know there’re two of ‘em
And one’s mighty nice looking
I move a little in her direction
She moves a little the same direction
I move a little more
She moves a little more
Another slide to close the gap a bit
Another opening a bit
By the time we’ve covered some Bach
Three Ayres from Gloucester
And all the horn section’s space
I retreat to the other hornist’s side
Since he doesn’t get me so horny
We hit it off
Will live together eight years hence
Move apart after flaring disputes
And after another twenty-five I’ll think back to consider
Whether he observed my failure
Whether he didn’t move away for a reason
Whether he might’ve been a bit horny himself
Or just a fellow nerd
I’ll never know

The youth group announces its beach trip
Saturday we hit the sand
The heat the sun the sight of all that female flesh
Mesmerizing for a morning
Till amazingly one calls me over
Prone with top undone
Oh I see what this is about
She’s about to head for shade
And nonsexual derelict that I am
I was safe enough to tie it back wasn’t I
Lucky me
Licking my sweating lips I straddle her
Careful to not make her sandy
Reach for the two ends
Bring them together upon that tight athletic skin
Not too cutting and not too loose
Linger a bit more
Just to cherish the moment
Nightly for the months and decades ahead
Amble back to bury the bulge formed in my trunks
Through my towel in the warm gentle sand
Ah the heat on my skin
The sun
The vision
The crashing waves
The heat in front
The firmness
The depth
The flaring blazing aching thrusting white-hot elation
The little more than slight undulation
That’s all I need to bring bursting forth
From a prostate swollen
From the arduous passage of time
Since I realized I could orgasm
As the erection dies
As for a brief walk
As I make for the waves to clean up
What I never let them read on my face
Now visibly spilling along my leg
My frustration
Whether I care what they think
Whether more than once
This temporarily relieved gland will send me to the unsurprising ER
Before twenty years have passed
Those happier folks
Who’ve got me on the move toward the cool of the water
Whether they care what I do with myself in my aloneness
Whether they observe
Whether they realize their degree of success
Or envy my dripping disrespect for their conventions
You’ll never know

Thanks always returns

« first in “Loser’s progress”     ‹ previous in “Loser’s progress”     Contents     next in “Loser’s progress” ›     first in “Heroes” »

Copyright © 2013 Thanks always returns