Scenes from a Doomed Midget Porn Film*

by Stephen Du Marais

FROM the blades of the ceiling fan,
a pair of leggings,
— chop chop chop —
that same:
— whop whop whop —
of chopper blades in Vietnam.

Gently, she presses the tips,
of his flippers,
to her flappers,
— oh me —
    Doris breathes,
            — oh my —
and a moan escapes her lips.

Then stage left, right on cue,
blindfolded and nude,
the midget enters,
his hands before him, he goes forth
to grope his way across the floor.

But busy with her fish affair,
Doris doesn't see him there,
reaches between her heaving thighs
— inserts two digits —
and evinces more convincing sighs.

The midget wanders in a daze,
through his naked, blind-folded haze,
into the corner of the bed,
where Doris is insensible,
now giving that rubber fish some rubber head.

Everyone who's not on the set,
is quiet with awe, and reverent,
the film is rolling, it's looking great
And the director off the stage,
Whispers — perfect, now cue the snake.

But suddenly —

From beneath the latex sheet,
the inflatable fish begins to leak,
and someone off the set,
— who thinks he's funny —
calls for a rubber vet.

That's it! the midget shouts,
I'm finished with you louts,
You, shut up off the set!
He tears the blindfold off,
and lights a cigarette.

Then through the room — an awful hiss,
But Doris in her ichthyic bliss
does not seem to hear the sound,
and humping quickly up and down,
she really gives that fish a pound.

And then there's a resounding boom,
latex blasts throughout the room,
because Doris has no luck
with the leaking rubber fish
that she still tries to fuck.

I don't believe this!
You miserable shits!
the naked midget calls his agent,
He will not work with amateurs,
grabbed his hat and off he went.

Poor Doris looks bewildered and spent,
the director cringes, holds his head,
That midget was my star! he weeps,
then takes his folding chair and flings
the whole contraption into the wings.


*Honorable mention, asinine poetry literary contest, spring 2002

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