Seals

Seals 

by Sterling Storm

Walkin’ by the rundown amusement park arcade
I stopped at King Neptune’s Shooting Gallery to try my luck.
Through the sights, all I saw was murky water and cloudy shadows.
I figured age and neglect had brought things to this sad state.
But the targets were clear, I could see I was shooting at real live seals.
They had scars in their fur, bullets encrusted in their flesh.

I lost interest in the game, headed out to the pier,
to this little oasis stage where all these beautiful exotic women were on display.
They were polinesian, middle eastern, adorned with fine fabrics and jewels,
showing some flesh, sexy as hell.
And their eyes said, “Come here, come here, and wallow in undreamable pleasure,
but at the same time stay away if you value your life!”
Through the lit, blue porthole window of the bakestore bar on my right,
I saw some swarthy mustached men smoking and drinking and looking uptight.
They were indoneasian, muslim, merchant marine or something.
I studied the men. I looked out at the women.
I got the picture. I made a decision.

I surrendered to the concubines and happily let them have their way.
And endlessly they caressed me, shared me sweetly, milked me moved me.
In slow motion, I sifted through veils of euphoria
until from the languid folds of satiated lust
I became aware that the men had become aroused.
They were angry!  I knew I had to make my escape.
So I darted through their ranks and I raced down the stairs I thought led to beach.
I stopped for a second.  I tried to catch my breath.
I looked around and I couldn’t find the door.
I was in the arms of a giant genii
who reached down and by the back of my neck lifted me up off the floor.
I kissed my ass goodbye 
as he lifted me up 6 stories high.
Then he let me drop down the stairwell wailing,
falling, screaming, careening, flailing.  

I was a crumpled heap of mangled bones and worthless flesh.
I couldn’t move but I was swimming slowly.
I was a seal with bullets encrusted in my flesh,
another cloudy target in the waters of a shooting gallery.

Copyright © 2007, 2014 by Sterling Storm, all rights reserved. 

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