DRUMMER POETRY
©Jack Fritscher. See Permissions, Reprints, Quotations, Footnotes

Foot Loose
by Jack Fritscher

AUTHOR'S HISTORICAL CONTEXT INTRODUCTION

The poem as published in
Drummer 29, May 1979

Foot Loose
by Jack Fritscher

Come on, muthafuck, eyeball these size 12’s up close.
A man stands on his own two bare feet:
booted, socked, sweat-bared, raw-boned.
Heavy nails, man. Sniff that toe jam.
Worship the smell you’re gonna suck.
Oh, yeah.
Sweaty manfoot, calloused,
rubbing across your soft lips.
Pull your tongue that you thought was made
for sucking cock and ass
across the thick-skinned sole of my foot.
Oh, yeah.
That’s personal, fucker. Very personal.
Oh, yeah.
I walk thru wet steam rooms at the gym
and piss barefoot at dripping urinals.
You tongue manstough between my toes.
Oh, yeah.
Chew my heel, fucker.
Worship manhood from the bottom up.
Kiss my toes. Fill your mouth.
Feel the smooth nails down your throat.
Rub the ball of my heavy foot across your cheek.
Oh, yeah.
Smell the asshole I footfucked an hour ago.
Oh, yeah.
Worship manfoot, muthafuck.
Cry on my foot like some loving Magdalene.
Dry the wet and sweat and asstaste
with your growth of beard.
Be my footstool, fucker.
Oh, yeah.
I want your eyes’ wild look.
Oh, yeah.
Lick my toes.
Oh, yeah.
Lick my arch of triumph.
Oh, yeah.
A guy could kick the shit out of you.