I hurry up the street

to get away from shoeless,

half naked girls. A few bucks

buys you a good time here,

but if you’re caught,

no one hears from you again.


I slip inside a bar.

Bob Marley singing

“Could You Be Loved”

on the jukebox.

I take a seat,

breathe in the freedom

of majiwana smoke,

and watch a couple of men

take bets on the ring toss.

A woman seated two

chairs down slides

over next to me.

“What are you drinking?”

she asks.

“Isn’t that my line?”

I say.


She tips her head back

and laughs. Her icy

teeth float in her black

Russian mouth.

I point at her glass

and the bartender

slides its twin into my hand.

After four drinks

I’m feeling good

and dizzy.


She guides me up the stairs

and into a bedroom decorated in red satin.

Sitting in a rocking chair

next to the bed is a voodoo doll,

black lights shooting fire out of its eyes.

I collapse on a bean bag

and watch her undress.

Her body splits in half,

exposing bare legs mating

like two garden snails.

As I lick her toes,

her mimetic muscles

stretch into a grin

and wrap my body

in moonlight.








Photo by Dan Woods