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## Another Sex Dream

daniel zomparelli

From Davie Street Translations, © 2012 Daniel Zomparelli, published by Talonbooks, Vancouver, in 2012. Zomparelli is editor-in-chief of Poetry Is Dead magazine. He is also the program coordinator for Megaphone magazine Community Creative Writing Program. Davie Street Translations is his first book of poetry.

from the street, each deserving manwould approach for a taste of thistransformation, so by dawn, I’d be rawand then, by evening, ready and healed.

—Michael V. Smith, “Salvation”

I keep having sex dreams

of all men. Men of age, colour, time,

travel and work. My sixty-seven-year-

old boss, my thirty-two-year-old boss,

my Muslim co-worker, my

friends, men I don’t even know

and a few women with manly haircuts

for good measure and I

pull them

from the street, each deserving man

could feel the warmth and they

cry tears. Cry love, cry semen, cry

goodbyes and not-this-times. They have never

been so pleased. I am a machine

of pleasure, a Fleshlight of hope. Like

a Madonna video, but with fewer feathers.

Like an endless tequila bottle, enough

to go around. I would

be Lil’ Kim, so that everyone

would approach for a taste of this

and l-l-l-l-l-lick me from my head

to my toes. They would lie back

satiated, and even though

I find them

in their self-loathing, I go back for more.

I go back, even though my heart is a brick

even though they don’t love me

even though this is not for me.

I go until there is a

transformation, so by dawn, I’d be raw

and be tired in my right arm. I used to wonder

why the hell I have sex

dreams against my will, but I traced it

back to Catholic guilt. Like Miss USA, I hope

for world peace, and I can

do that with my mouth. That

the broken men could cry to release

so that I take their pain

and the world can hurt in the morning

and then, by evening, ready and healed.