Wild Beasts

it is almost unreal watching them

two on one side of the subway seat and two on the other

snorting at each other

howling so ungraciously

and taking photographs on their phones

these wild beasts of the american night

nearly all of them three-hundred pounds

in mini-skirts or corsets

their bare asses plastered to sticky seats

full of bum jizz and toddler snot

sort of human just like you

one of them looks like an ogre

with yellow flesh and red nostrils

she keeps huffing out of her wide nose

opening her wide mouth and exposing square brown teeth

she’s talking about all of the men

who are in love with her

they all want this, she says

running her thick hands down her dress

who are these men? i ask my wife

where do men like this exist?

the two who aren’t three-hundred pounds

are taking photos of each other

and spraying whore perfume

they keep kissing each other on the cheek

making like they’re going to french kiss

while the big girls eat candy out of boutique bags

as the n train rolls us across the manhattan bridge

and back into brooklyn hell

ew, you lesbians, the wild beasts chant

at their canoodling friends

and then they snort some more

take more pictures

move their fat asses on the seat

as they pop m&m’s into their mouths

and continue to talk about all of the men that want to fuck them

i imagine comatose brooklyn guidos

with death before dishonor tattooed on their arms

in need of an easy sexual fix

i hope to christ that one doesn’t spread her legs

i say to my wife

pointing at the yellow ogre

i mean i’m not a decent man

but i could use a little decency right now

or a dog catcher

whatever it will take tonight to get these cackling

wild beasts off of this train

without me seeing their underwear

and all of that glory between their legs

that they keep bragging about

get them back into whatever caged asylum they came from

until the moon goes down

and the city is safe once again

for the rest of us uglies

to keep feeling good about ourselves

--John Grochalski