I escaped the crib
the heat of my mother
and a couple brushes with men
head full of badges and ammo
when she dangled
the cherry in front of my
face
look it, she goes, coy and
tipping her head and
saucy like she
does, look it what I got for you while
you were away
it was this tiny pewter statue of
Ganesh,
the Remover of Obstacles.
what does it do, I tried to
plug it in, or eat it, and
she’s all
C’mon, let’s go to the bar,
let’s get some pizza and
hit Pete’s for some
shit
done in again, railroaded, I let
her take me down
below the belt,
her creamy hands leading
eyelashes batted and where’s the
cliff edge this time, for
fuck sakes.
you look hungry, let’s
follow Ganesh, and That’s an order, she
said
as I quite gently
removed her leopard skin spiked heel
from my ear canal
to the tune of
Sheena is a Punk
it’s Taco Tuesday at the Bit Saloon,
we can play ping pong, and Pete’s sure to make
an appearance.
I let her win the
war game
on the warped table, new
as I was to the fetid gloom
of freedom
disproportionately obscured by smoke
I’m invited for a session
the lady’s stall, crammed
with her
fleshy thighs and Rhonda watching from the sink,
jealous as a salivating
mouth.
you’ll get yours, honey pie, she purrs,
lapping at the nearly
spent bindle –
Pete gives it good, what I
heard
I get the picture. the walls be-bopped, papered
with posters devising calendars
brazen with sleaze
nothing’s free
on Taco Tuesday.
Jay Passer
Belly Fat Magazine 