Jesus in the devil’s dress-
I call you needles and pines…creature of flesh,
no flowers, brown eyes or dyed eyes, I rock you into your foundation tonight,
no clouds hover in your heart, a binding of mint moss around, your bark and trunk-
spell death to your taproot.
Absent minded you hum lies, shiver, and swallow a steady cocktail
of semen from a variety of men, minus love, several glasses Chablis wine,
eye glib stares-nomad needles and pines on the streets.
Your lips are bloody, cracked and sore when the morning comes.
Shadows of hell reflect in your messed make-up.
Stretch your skin and thin thighs pray for relief,
forfeit cheap breakfasts, silver dollars, $25 or less.
Your Johns street prey, scavengers of your flesh,
those in apartment towers, they lean over petunias, windowsills.
They form groupies, telescope hangers, hookers in your chains.
Players of different seasons, stereos, CD disks, drop in,
dress in different ways to fulfill different needs.
Brown eyes, blue eyes, cheeks pink, checks black, you are a creature of flesh.
Scandal walks on many different doorsteps.
Mysteries hang and rise in your hookers eyes.
You are good at poker, stealing chips, personal information, absorbing glances.
Your community life is nothing more than sparrow dropping into their shadows.
Your life is in the garret, pocketbook of a small town.
You try to expand your world and hideaway.
You live in the groins of my groin, and so many other lovers.
I am revert to needles and pines, ginger dust,
just another ounce of Chablis, cheap is the night.