Private lessons

Private Lessons

You asked me into
your office after school,
said I needed help
with the bass drum.
It should be ba boom boom
BOOM, you said,
with the big finale.

One arm snaked
around mine,
grasped my hand,
wrapped around the striker.
One hand
clenched my hip,
locking me tight.

Your arm moved,
hips swiveled.
We tapped the skin
head with the mallet.
The keys in
your front pocket
scraped me.

Hard metal pressed
my back as you moved
the drumstick,
pivoting in our hands. You
bent your knees, lowering
yourself to my height.

The hand on my hip
tightened, pulled me
nearer, closer.
Ba boom boom BOOM you said,
hips bobbing, grinding,
pushing me.

Ba boom boom BOOM
ba boom boom BOOM
the tight skin
hums. Sound bounces,
enveloping us, as you quake
to the music.

Published Spring 05 in Red Weather magazine.