Porn in America

Maybe five or six paperbacks He had bought after the war,Never expected to marry—Then he met my mother.
I was ten or elevenWhen I found them.All the other boys laughed,I was a late-comer.
The rich boys with carsAnd money to buy rubbersWould drive across the county lineWhere they could get some girls
Who bobbed beers on their boobsAnd wore no pantiesAnd hopped out to the parking lotWhen they saw the rubbers.
1950s America!Where the veneer was thickAnd everything okayIf you didn’t get caught—
Though the rich boys had lawyersIf something did need fixing;Otherwise, it was marryAnd go to hell … do not collect …
Most of us, though, were quiet,Living for centerfoldsTo cradle the paperbacksUntil they fell apart.
The Sixties changed all that,Ripped the veneer clean away

In less than a decade—And what we saw was shocking:
Women in manacles,Aging household prisoners,Alcoholic, desperate,No rubbers, no parking lots.
Their daughters wanted none of it—Sexless marriages, Battered mothers, cheating men.Fuck this! They took the pill.
I learned from these womenPorn has nothing to do with sex,Only men’s fantasiesMost women just laugh at.
Those who don’t get paid a lot.I have no problem with that.It’s those who don’t get paidI grieve for—they’re just holes
Sexploited by megacorpsAnd turned each into a corpseSo many middle men Using their bodies’ income.
There you have it, black and white—Likely, more black than white:Slavery in America,Color it what you will.
I like sex, yes, a whole lot.I grew up, too. Learned to love.As for women? They make lifeAnd make life worth living as well.