HOPE FOR RAIN / jOHN #127

Hope For Rain / John #127
By: Anthony Salatino

All I’ve had in this world
Was the constant hope that it would rain,
Come wash this filth from my skin.
How did all this happen?

I once was in love, that love betrayed,
Left broken and despaired, owning only my name.
Everything else was, as that song goes, “dust in the wind”.
These endless nights and long days
They grow weary on my heart.
This constant bump and grind
And all I would wish for was it to rain.

By raining, I wouldn’t have to shower (who could afford to),
To hide these tears, come clean me only superficially,
Not deeply.
My soul is wrecked by hurt
Please rain today, wash me.

Never knowing whom my next John will be.
Hopefully he won’t beat me and cheat me
Of the money I work hard to earn
As he does in his white collar behind a desk by day,
By night, pants around waist, thrusting in and out,
Not in his wife, may I add.

Some enter me, some want me to enter
Some need a blowjob; I even get payed to be blown.
I have hid many bruises, even saw a trip
To the clinic to sew up an orifice ripped by an
“ASSHOLE”

#127 arrives in an SUV, what greets me
is a sparkling smile and nice clothes.
Here I go again putting my life in danger
As I enter this foreign place with a stranger as king.
I tell him things need to be quick, I have lots of others to do.
My pay is all I am worried about and yet I
Can’t help to feel this passionate ether between us.

“I Love You” comes as he comes,
I hear this all the time, but this is sincere.
As the 2 Franklins are handed to me
By a silver-weighted hand,
He tells me “I’m workin’ on that”.
I say “it’s okay, this times for free”

Five years have gone by,
My days in backseats are over, I ride proudly
In the front seat of a Lexus,
Of a new man in my life.

He takes me to theatres,
I have only seen the parking lots of.
We dine in restaurants
Without the disgusted looks and scoffs.

Every now and then we take a drive down memory lane,
Passing those figures in the corner streetlight.
Me seeing my past, seeing their present and future
My salty tears I still have, knowing things are alright.

Do I still hope for rain, dear reader, you ask?
Of course, but only to water our lawn,
And perhaps to wash the filth off our mailbox that says
“Mr. & Mr. #127”