Mango Woman
Last time I heard
beach bar waiters
and bartenders
were pulling her out of the waters
naked, in a manic state
her gorgeous pale skin
bare against the blue light of the full moon
and, against her will,
were dressing her with their own clothes
because her lips had turned blue
and because, as they said:
“We have sisters ourselves…daughters…”
Manic-depressive, mad-crazy, gorgeous Anna
thick black hair, straight and down to her waist,
a snake-ish body,
gift of her pill addicted diet–
her Animus perfectly engulfed by my Anima,
her Masochism hand in hand with my Sadism,
and it was so lovely for a while,
so lovely indeed, before the trouble came
before the downslide steepened.
Gorgeous, faded, mad-pussy Anna
stealing pills and all sorts of injection caps
I’m too uneducated to know about,
from the hailing ambulance taking us to the hospital
because of my lumped up skull
and my fractured ribs
because I’m the kind of stupid
to pick a fight with a wall, let alone
six to seven scumbags hitting on my beautiful Anna.
Psychotic, angry, dangerous Anna
chasing people with a knife she’s used before
because the sight of seven scumbags stomping
on her man is too much a sight to take–
and when the punks disappear like roachers
in pavement cracks
she turns her fists to street lamps until they explode
and the glass shatters into her knuckles
dousing her sexy clothes with her own blood.
Sweet, compassionate, flowery Anna
tying my shoelaces for me while I sit stiff
and nauseous in the wheeling chair in the hospital,
waiting for the results of my X-rays and angry
because I was promised mad fucking that night,
and as she kisses my shin in adoration
I tell her:
“Did you see how I dropped that first motherfucker
with a single swing? What type of man gets laid
flat on their ass like that, with a single punch? Did
you see Anna? Did you see?
Even the second one couldn’t handle me at my feet, Anna.
That’s why they wrestled me to the ground, Anna.
I wish I had another pair of hands, I’d fuck’em all up
if I just had another pair of hands, I know it, Anna.
If I just had another pair of hands.”
Clever, emotional, pharmaceutically educated Anna
arguing with the doctor
about the type of prescription I need for my rib pains.
Trying to get good drugs out of a bad situation.
“Ibuprofen and Algofren my ass.
He needs codeine and you know it.”
Soft finally, tamed, relaxed and beautiful Anna
lying next to me in a king size bed
after a long day at the police station,
feeding me codeine pills and beers
until I can barely remember who I am
let alone feel any pain in my body.
Pill junky Anna,
gobbling five to six codeine pills at the same time
after already having taken as much or more with me,
after getting fucked by me for what seemed like hours
while her heart still throbs in her chest–
finding her after my shower
with a yellow color on her face, laying there with her
tits barely moving.
Slapping her to keep her awake
because she didn’t want to go to the hospital
because she only needed me to keep her
awake for about three hours, until the danger was gone
but I kept her up until dawn, just to be safe,
completely dozed out of my mind myself,
slapping her hard, bringing water, bringing fruits
which she sometimes took a bite out of
and half chewed for a second
before her eyes would turn sides
inside her sockets
and I’d lift her straight up, standing her on her two feet
threatening her with an ambulance phone call
to bring her back from the shadow realm for a while.
And when we finally decided it was safe to fall asleep
I put her head on my chest
and with one hand held her wrist,
feeling her slow pulse against the tip of my fingers
and with another hand around her gorgeous tits
I told her to finally sleep, that I’d watch over
her life as she rested,
and I hearkened to her breathing
and I prayed that she remained alive
because she is magnificent
and I prayed that I, myself, don’t fall asleep.
It was time to go
in the morning.
I had to go.
“I have to go” I told her
“I’m too heavy myself
to be able to lift another person.”
I hugged her and gave her half my money
because she didn’t have any homes left
to turn to–
such a beautiful woman with no friends–
imagine the bridges burned–
imagine the ways they were lit on fire.
When I limped out of the hotel
the sun was unforgiving, the heat
unbearable, and my foot
was bruised like a balloon that
barely fit in my shoe
and I walked without knowing
were to go
and the passerby’s stared at my bloated face
and at a foreign intersection I stood still
for a while, not knowing where each road would
take me.
But I knew I had to get out of there
and so I did.
I will remember the sensation
of your tiny trembling body
while I spooned you and
felt you with my hands to see
if the flame was still burning,
while I lied to you and tried to
convince you
you are strong enough to be on your own
just so I could convince my own self
that I wasn’t leaving anyone behind.
Horror Sleaze Trash 