The narrow finger

  to the interior – road

    trip coming in June.

    Late May snow. I know

  what kind of man I am –

      squatting to pee.

    Road trip tits –

  pull over – to jerk off –

     for a change.

       I always believed

  in God – meds make me happy –

    hung (o) horny – (w)hole.

R said part of sobriety is acknowledging the banal repetition of being alive. I eat a banana with peanut butter for at least one meal every day. When I’m driving long distances, I prefer a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit from Burger King. I recognize this limits my dating opportunities. R said that partnership is about finding the person with whom you are happy to be bored.

When she read some of her “Pornographic Pastorals,” Arielle Greenberg reminded us that one of the remaining taboos around sex is still pleasure. Specifically feminine pleasure. Whereas writing about pain or loss tends to evoke empathy (I’m paraphrasing her here), writing about the joys of multiple female orgasms (or just the expressive feminine sexual self, in general) often elicits jealousy, or distance, or shame. But what about masturbation? I also do that every day.

    Truck drivers and farm

  equipment. Kittens. The world –

           as it recedes.

Not really a man

(coming) making me stop, get

out, take off my clothes.

      Eight fingers, two thumbs,

    one tight ass. If it stops raining,

         I’ll find another goal.

              If sex with someone

              else felt this good I would not

              let them touch me.

  The smell of cedars

at a rest-stop in Blyn – clean

  toilets – jerking off.

air and tits and o-

pen I why I tits I I

I fuck I fuck I

The indexical

digit is hegemonic –

bildungsroman – Proust.

That picture you sent –

did you mean for me to use

it this way – or not?