some other body

The body talks with a mirror.  Cups of tea standing in for whiskey.  Shameful.  Cheap.  I’m in a hot parlor with some lovelies from down south, way down, way south.  There are snifters from world war II in their hands as they hand down orders from a sour puss debutant.  We can’t be helped.  None of us will make it out of here alive.  We can only hope to be resurrected or some bull shit like that. 

Remember when you ran over the tulips with your bicycle?  You were too old for that thing anyway, boner wagging in your pants.  You wanted me then didn’t you?  Wanted to take me down hard, south, mouth, puss, paw, south paw, sour puss, mouth.  Couldn’t deflower me, cause I could run real fast, had to take it out on the tulips.  I bet your mom was pissed.

I taught you to sway dem hips like I never do at home, but like I promised to do to you, you who laid waiting under a black light lit poster of Janis Joplin.  To the bathroom to take out my contacts.  I’d rather not see what I’m doing.  Meanwhile you picked celery strands from your teeth, say you’re going to eat me alive.  I locked myself in your closet.  I didn’t want to die.