Johnny turns out to be
the thinnest rake of them all
with his weedy eyes that train
on you
all night long
outside the diner or during
church.
I lost a lot
that evening, semen
on my dress, the lonely roadside.
In one blackout alone
I grabbed all my photos,
threw em in with the hotel litter.
I wasn't a looker, not fast
enough for the boys, not
cute enough for
Patsy; wailing
to my mother
through the cloakroom wall.
She never answered, course -
hair pulled back, mouth
dangling
like a ripped out appendix,
Moon River on the turntable.
I didn't wait
for the final
climax
that might lift us all
to God and heaven,
I just
crossed my legs
and cried
cos Jesus was a man
who'd never
come
fuck it better.
