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
I like this poem, its atmosphere and the title especially, which summons a world of associations and the piece does not disappoint, it leads me deeper into your maze.