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Ass of Iron

I had never seen Jake drunk so this could be a whole a new show. We drew the Lime-green bikini as a waitress. Cheap joint – all the dancers had to take a shift on the floor slingin’ booze. This little girl was oogling Jake like he was the christmas turkey.

“Hi, guys. We drankin’ today?  Dranken. ” I’ll have a long island iced tea” sez Jake. ” Arnold Palmer” sez I. “Well, I can tell who’s driving”. “Whats your name ?” I ask ” Mona” she sez,” like the Mona Lisa”.  She showed her teeth again. I had never seen such a jumbled mess of dentin in my life. ” Don’t run off, now”, Mona said and wiggled back towards the bar. On stage was a long-legged Spanish girl with real tits and a tight set of hips. Blue sheer wrap over a butt-floss bikini, sporting an ass you could crack walnuts on. The bikini was white. Wow. She was moving the regular motions pretty much, but sexier. Beautiful mouth with lots of straight white teeth. Lots of ’em.  I’m wondering if she’s  married . Bad sign cause I know what comes next in my thoughts. Her eyes were shaped like almonds, half-lidded and jet black, as far as I could tell.

Mona came back and set the glasses down. “Eight dollars big boys”, this aimed right at Jake’s mug, which was agog by now. ” This one’s mine”, I said and reached for my pocket. ” Tell Solly that Jake is here with a friend from the north that want’s to meet him”, Jake says and stilled my hand. ” No problem” sez miss pickett-fence mouth, and she bobbled off. I watched her go. She went to a door in the back wall, knocked and was let in. I stopped watchin’ that and went back to the white bikini with ass of  iron. “Unbelievable ” is what I was thinking. This woman in a place called the Star’s Bar in little Havana and I see her now. I’m just in time for a fine romance, is what I’m thinking. I’m a fool but a stiff cock has no conscience. And I’m wondering who Solly is and why does Jake think I need new friends

Pooch’s dream

I’m dressed in jogging shorts and tank-top, standing at the top of a peak. Everybody is there; Noreen, Pops, scuffle, moms, Lois, Slats, all of ’em watching me, waiting, and many encouraging me. They want me to jump. Some look sure, others don’t care, yet others in the crowd look apprehensive. I jump and I’m flying. The ground below is not really the ground, but a layer of smoke, trapped in a trim of neon piping that follows the contours of what should be the earth. A big psychedelic blanket, with alternating lines of color that wash and undulate and fold and flow, never getting too far from the surface that is obscured beneath it. I soar and flap and dip downward in a dive, all of it beyond what might or might not be my conscious controls.
Then the peripheral sides of my path of flight draw in and become benevolent walls of tint and hue that don’t so much enclose me but free me to find a frame of reference and a way to go. My leonine head is beautiful and my hair has become a lustrous mane of butterscotch. It gives me the exhilarated feeling that all things are possible and that I can perform them beautifully. I begin a steep descent which frightens me with it’s suddenness and, even though terrified, there is a steel-hard awareness that the worst is never as bad as I expect. I give in to the terror and fall.

Mirrored Balls

Jake, the goombah, and I go dancing into this joint named “Star’s Bar”. Dark and cool and smells like smoke and beer and lipstick. There’s 4 mirrored balls on the ceiling, one in each corner of this not so big strip club. The habitues are in what are probably their regular chairs, strewn about the place and none sitting too close to one another. The girl on stage is writhing to old Led Zeppelin and I guessed that each girl got to choose whatever tunes they wanted, and this gal’s parents were hippies.  She is a very dark-skinned black girl with a stunner of a body and a set of teeth that belonged on a power saw. She’s givin’ it hell though and I had to stop and look for a bit. The lime green bikini she has on hides nothing.

Harvey patted my arm, “It gets better….much better” sez he. He steers me over to a booth close to the edge of the stage and we sit and wait to order, me all the while eyeing this fantastic body with the face to protect it. The girl sees me watchin’ and whips off the top of her bikini. Nipples like the erasers on a number 2 pencil and the tidiest little cupcake titties you ever saw. Now we’re gettin somewhere sez I.

Lil’ Havana

After all was said and done I went to Florida to cool out. Went to Jacksonville first but that place was full of jack-offs and hillbillys so I went on down to Miami. Pops had some friends there and I was staying with a ‘cousin’,  named Jake from Chicago. Big doofus goombah with money and connections. This dude was regular and had a collection of older restored cars. He had a Safari Wagon that I fell in love with.  It was a sixty-five. Cute little fins and clean as a whistle. We went cruising in it to Glenvar Heights cause Goombah said there was a bar there I needed to see. Fine with me.

puffy raggedy piles

The way the phone was ringing said as much as he wanted to know without even answering the call. Nobody  except her called this early, and the cat-box was dirty when he left the night before which meant that Cezanne reminded her of this fact in his usual way. Nothing like a cat for nastily effective communication. When they deign to communicate, that is. Passive-aggressive little fuck heads, the whole bunch, good only for mousing if the need exists and little more other than reminding you of your insignificance if there are no rodents in residence. The money was counted, banded in denominational stacks and sitting on the edge of the bed in puffy, raggedy piles, stinking like gray-green money , and softly purring, ” lets go, oh pal o’ mine, times’ a wasting.” He began to chuckle, getting the visual of her in her purple wrapper, standing next to the heap she called a bed,  toes in a puddle of cat-piss, calling to remind him that he forgot to empty the litter box. 

still chilly

Then a dull stomping thud, a flash, and down she went.

She awoke with a tough little ache at the base of her skull. It was abrupt and surprising, and moreover felt as if it were something she shouldn’t have had to have. But too late. She was awake and into today’s hell. Throwing off the blanket and swinging her feet over, she stood. Damned floor was always still chilly this early in the morning. But not usually wet. She was standing in cat piss.

cat piss

She realized the justifying rant about the money was simply him, again, building a wall between them, him thinking that she might buy it, him, not really giving a shit either way. Not satisfied with waiting for tomorrows’ hell, choosing todays’ hell as well, she threw back the covers and stood. The floor, usually still chilly this time of morning, was warm. She looked down. Blood was puddling around her toes, running in little streams down along the insides of her calves. She smelled copper and salt and cat piss.