Stud Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

In denim blues, his t-shirt shines.
No tux could strut so fine.
He is bad.
With dirty hands as if he worked,
Few care he cuts in line.

Oh he's bad...
He smells of brim-stone, sweat and sex
With stubble on his chin.
What hides his cloven hooves and tail?
Are horns beneath his skin?
He's bad, but bad never looked so good.

He eyes the exit. Eyes my soul.
Which is the better bet?
He is bad.
He'll pick a fight. He'll kick a dog 
And never feel regret.

Oh he's bad...
He'll charm a waitress, skip her tip
And never look the fool.
He won't say sorry, please or thanks,
And come off looking cool.
He's bad, but bad never looked so good.

He'll peel his tread, ignore all signs,
But damn, I feel the thrill.
He is bad.
He'll take my seat. He'll steal my cap.
I'm pissed, but linger still.
Oh he's bad...
He pees off porches, spits on food.
Loves breaking mirrors, clocks.
His cards aren't good. He fibs for fun.
He's always testing locks.
He's bad, but bad never looked so good.



And he said to me:
“I want you to be my friend..
I don't know why yet,
But some day I'll need you and then…
you'll owe me- Sucker.'
then gave me his killer smile.

What am I missing? What's it like,
Those things I don't allow?
He is bad.
He rubs his crotch. He curls his lip.
He wants, and wants it now. 



Oh he's bad...
But I feel guilty lacking guilt.
I know what's right and yet
Am I the gutless fool 'cause I
Regret I can't regret?
He's bad, but bad never looked so good.

He fearless, bold. He takes the lead,
Yet never takes the blame.
He is bad.
I envy how he takes his fill,
And takes off without shame.

Oh he's bad...
And when he falls, he lands on top.
Then off. He can't be found.
His luck will leave. But he'll be dead
Before he caught and bound.
He's bad, but bad never looked so good.