Date, Inflatable

Date, Inflatable

He is "Chris" now
black leather, moussed hair
Sixth form and Joshua Tree
Christopher was sweatbands
scrapbooks, Atari

Chris still shy with women though
reinvention only takes you so far
Chris rubs his car keys
along the grooves in his
jumbo cords

His virginity clings
smokes cigarettes for effect
mouthsnapshut at parties

Chris has a brother, older
gone now
Under his bed is a box
Chris knows what is in it

The Inflatable Date
calls to him when
his body bothers him
"I am Barbara, just
like the real thing
Practice makes perfect"

His hands tremble,
his foot stamps the pump
This is the foreplay.
Practice makes perfect
When the moment arrives
Barbara complies

She feels like
the side of a paddling pool
younger days of sun-splashing
Barbara squeaks and sighs

Afterwards he kisses her
on the cheek
afraid of her gaping mouth
He lets her down gently

His blow-up lover
Plastic makes perfect