Growing up in a home of angry silence,
he never learned a thing about sex,
except when his parents played
drunken strip-poker with friends.

When he was a delivery boy
housewives, wearing egg-stained housecoats,
open at the front, always let him in.

They taught him lots of dirty tricks.

When he became a lifeguard
on the beach of Bodega Bay,
he had his way with the ladies
from the Spa up on the hill.

He hovers over his wife,
a newspaper under her.
He reads the funnies,
like other folks do
when sitting on the crapper.

Too many years a much desired stud,
he no longer feels a rumble in his heart.
His one-eyed friend now speaks for him.