pragmatic romantic

by Patrick Trotti

i have every intention of fucking you
he said to me,
before i even knew his name
a pragmatic romantic at heart.
he bought me a drink
something top shelf in a glass with ice
lit my cigarette for me,
making sure to take his time
and have his hands brush up against mine
as i protected the tip from the weather.
“you know I’m not gay, right?”
“does it matter, only for a night?”
his simple theory clashed against his self-assured demeanor
my naiveté gave way to his lips,
reason was overcome with his aggression
i loved every minute of it,
in the dirty stall of the bar bathroom,
letting him worship me while i dominated.
he loved every minute of it,
the sloppiness, the fumbling around,
the hand to hand combat, the fight for supremacy.
it was all a game to me
but i still wanted to win.

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