My groupie

I read last Saturday in the
redwoods outside of Santa Cruz
and I was about 3/4’s finished
when I heard a long high scream
and a quite attractive
young girl came running toward me
long gown & divine eyes of fire
and she leaped up on the stage
and screamed:   “I WANT YOU!
I told her, “Look, get the hell
away from me.”
but she kept tearing at my
clothing and throwing    herself
at me.
“Where were you,” I
asked her, “when I was living
on one candy bar a day and
sending short stories to the
Atlantic Monthly?”
she grabbed my balls and almost
twisted them off.   her kisses
tasted like shitsoup.
2 women jumped up on the stage
carried her off into the
I could still hear her screams
as I began the next poem.

maybe, I thought, I should have
taken her on the stage in front
of all those eyes.

but one can never be sure
whether it’s good poetry or
bad acid.