the fat lady danced

i drove into the oldest part of town
and there she sat on an empty window sill
a fancy cigarette hanging from her hand
and inside her mouth a psychedelic pill
she was the only girl on the entire block
with two legs kicking instead of twenty four
a wind blowing papers which she wouldn't read
against the bottom of her back door
some cats played music in the middle of the street
humming a southern spirituality tune
one stray dog sleeping until he was done
started howling at a shadow of the moon
his both eyes red and two ears hanging way down low
he started licking himself where he felt it hurt
stretching he went looking for his next meal
he knew it was time to get to work
when a saloon exploded like a house of cards
guns firing at whisky bottles on the bar
and there she sat on an empty window sill
waiting for me to get out of my damn car
an elephant and a brown bear with balls
juggling coins in a game of pure chance
far down the line marched a traveling band
playing a sweet song of  adolescence romance
behind the circus tent in an alley full of fire
the fat lady danced her weight inside the ring
a crowd of drifters sitting around spellbound:
they all waited to hear her sing.

The Devil in the Flesh

she couldn't float her pointed little brown-tipped stick
on the tepid water of a completely full bathtub.
i watched her struggle for an hour while i sipped Russian Vodka
flavored with very ripe yellow peaches earlier picked from a
neighbor's tree, the skins removed with a sharp knife and
left for two weeks quartered inside a large Mason jar.
she wasn't interested in deeper conversation and had no
curiosity for my home made concoction, devoting herself
entirely to delving into the silly supernatural of uncertainty,
splashing and protesting and repeating "Yes, yes, I know."
also, she was smoking opium.
her wet hands would occasionally
slide each fingertip across a dry bath towel.
the nails were painted purple,
as were her full lips which parted when she furrowed her brows.
before falling under the spell of her latest efforts, i was sitting next to
Raymond Radiguet in a small anteroom indulging in alcohol and
bouts of artistic martyrdom.  we ended up drinking a bottle of whisky and a
bottle of gin before i mentioned anything about Vodka and
only as a last resort, to stop the girl from leaving our company with her little
stick.  it was too late.  she stood confidently.
Raymond and i were both infatuated with her ass and allowed our eyes
to follow her movements when she shattered our repose by moving
abruptly to leave the room.
his health was deteriorating so i was instantly chosen to rush by
her side.
even in my weakened condition, i opened the door for her to pass as
she took her leave.
i took my Vodka and a glass.
i might have hallucinated, but we ended up in a room with a completely
full bathtub.
try as she might, she couldn't float her pointed little brown-tipped stick
and i never saw Raymond again.