by Robin E. Sampson
It was tough for everyone.
Wall Streetwalkers, Big Three guzzlers,
mortgaged bankers, surreal estate brokers.
But when the purveyors of porn went under,
civilization as we knew it collapsed
into a quivering heap.
At first everyone snickered,
the smut peddlers needed
a hand out. A money shot.
Yeah sure. We thought
they were joking, but…
we should have listened.
Flynt and Francis were right.
Depressed, we quit having sex.
For recreation. Then procreation. The end.
Robin E. Sampson’s poetry has appeared online in Bent Pin Quarterly, New Verse News, Wicked Alice as well as various print locations. She also has an essay included in the book Poem, Revised: 54 Poems, Revisions, Discussions (Marion Street Press, 2008). She is one of the hosts of the Bethel, CT Wednesday Night Poetry Series, and a member of the performance troupe Shijin. She lives in Sandy Hook, CT.
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