Cherry-Baby,
What was your mantra?
Sometimes you’ve gotta suck a little cock
to get what you want. When I say that now,
people look at me in repulsion.
No one understands better than you
that we’re all whores at brass tacks. I try to remember where
I last saw your silhouette: was it robed
in sunlight, smiling on a pier? Even the ocean
was greedy for a fondle, and would have swallowed
you whole like an antipsychotic or a heroin balloon.
Darling, lay back on the settee. Let the rabbit-fur collar kiss
your neck’s stubbled skin. We’ll forget
your lipstick is smudged and your mascara
is running. We’ll forget you’ve broken
a heel. Have a petit-four and a cup of tea.
We’ll talk boys and pretend they’ve been civil.