by Moksha Gita
Imagine: Train tracks grinding—like Lou Reed scratching Warhol dope out of his Gretsch six string.
Imagine: Train lights flickering—like the neon red sign of some unknown Amsterdam sex worker’s den.
Imagine: Train sweat permeating—like the Super Bowl quarterback’s brow while throwing a last minute Hail Mary to win the Big Game.
Imagine all of this injected into the nutsack of a preteen, angsty and hormonal boy from the Aurora suburbs (cul-de-sacs will make any young lad turn to soft porn).
Where is this train going?
Who the fuck cares?
You’re (as the expression goes) young, dumb and full of cum—
Yes, sex is Risky Business.
If you’re a product of the X-Generation, interested in deliciously sultry nymphomaniac women, you remember the scene well. Before he became L Ron Hubbard’s psychospawn, Tom Cruise was every young boy’s hero (especially in that movie). Your parents are out of town. You’re young with the whole world ahead of you (and probably have that cliché graduation Seuss book “Oh the Places You’ll Go” shoved under the bed with all the Penthouses). He was the archetype of Hades—come to my lair and do to me what only sluts know how to do. Now, don’t think for one moment I am dissing on sluts. I’m not. Here’s a secret, ladies: every high school punk wanted to date you.
Of course, all this pent-up moose knuckle mayhem starts to level out and boys (hopefully) grow into semi-mature respectful young men—at least that seems to be the inspiration since the girls (already young women by any Red Tent standards) were always dating older dudes in hopes of that very situation (that and they had a whip—even if the keys were borrowed from dear old Dad).
So, yes, sex is Risky Business! Great! Most things in life worth a sperm’s tail are just that! Move fast (like a runaway train), make quick decisions that lead to enriching tangents, take non-calculated risks, and always wrap that locomotive up—unless you really want to add a caboose or a wart to your Orient Express. Safety third… All aboard!
Moksha Gita has worn a number of hats throughout his time travel on planet earth. No matter which hat he is wearing, he is always drawn to the freaky-deaky sideshow of life. Busker, circus school proprietor and currently the owner/fabricator of a company that makes metal circus gear, is it any wonder he is married to a non-transgender bearded lady? Check out his wares at CoggsCircus.com.