MY ROOMMATE, THE WHORE

MY ROOMMATE, THE WHORE
Jessica Gleason

I’d never known a real-life slut.
The immoral kind, addicted to the
sweat and stiffness of other, random,
men.

Her wide mouth, wet and soiled
had made more friends than I
have ever made.

I could smell her, smell it. This
thick astringent damp stink hovering
in the air of our cramped living
space.

I counted the men as they’d come,
and go. 5, 10, 15…
While I’m sure she had some
sort of selection process, I could never
quite see the similarities—
willing, virile, ready. Maybe.

Was she pretty, sure. But it was
that used kind of pretty.
Maybe her callers knew it too.
Before talking at her. Before
seeing that addiction in her bright
blue eyes.

I think. That, at first, she’d
waited until she thought I
was asleep. Curled up on
my extra-long single against
the comfort of the warm old
radiator.

But, at some point, my breathing
became an inconvenience. That, or,
she really needed her sex-fix. Quick.
Before he could escape.

Occasionally, I’d be rocking on the
uncomfortable wooden chair that
furnished our home away from home. Staring
into the bright blue glow of
my clunky 2002 HP Pavillion. When
I’d hear the moans escaping the
captivity of her blue and gold bedspread.

I could have just ignored it. Waited
for their swan song to end. But, I was
damaged enough as it was. So, I’d cross
the room, briskly creeping past
her creaking bed into the bright
blinding light of the dirty
dormitory hallway.

Sometimes I’d go and whine
to our short-blonde RA.
Pow Wow in the hall with
other residents who’d always offer
me
a warm STD-free place to sleep.

She didn’t stay. My roommate.
Moved out because I
was a problem. Because I
was a slob.

My dirty panties
littered about the room—a
hopeful deterrent—were always
much cleaner than the sins
of her cheating bloated
whore’s vagina.

©2012 This work is the property of the author.

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Posted on April 19, 2012, in Jessica Gleason, POETRY and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 8 Comments.

  1. Angry and funny, I like this poem from Jessica. And I think I know her roommate.

  2. Yup, that’s one angry poem. Interesting perspective…

  3. Wow! Entertaining. “A hopeful deterrent” – HA!

  4. A really dry wit which lifts the poem off the page. I like very much

  5. Thanks Folks! Glad you enjoy.

  6. That would be annoying, from the privacy perspective. Personally I don’t mind women who have a lot of sex, but I wouldn’t want them having it in my flat, probably. Anyway, it’s a good angry poem!

  7. At least you realized your uncomfortable feeling in a poem.

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