Monday, November 12, 2018
Friends, Dangers, Compliments
-I remember both sisters.
Pig-Tailed. Mega-Cute.
Irrepressible!
-With Ginger, that’s now
GRRRR-epressible!
-Angry?
-Pope a Catholic?
-He tries. But...uh?...has
she destroyed men?
-Just three up to now.
-And Mari?
-Only partials. Accidents really.
-The two should pool their
resources.
-Strange you should put it
that way! Why I called.
-ME? As sloppy-ass target?
Cut it out!
-IN!
- Crazy! Where’s the challenge?
-They see one. Or just wish
to play.
-Ridiculous! But...I begin shaking.
-Body being a wise man. Babbling next!
-What can I do?
-Smart question. Give them your
Yankee passes for a few nights.
Diversion! Players being as fresh
as you’re Old Shoe!
-They’ll forget?
-UGLY Old Shoe!
-I depend on my historical family then?
-Good move! Proctologists see
prettier daily.
Labels: Fatal Woman, feminine anger, scapegoat, sisters
Monday, January 15, 2018
“Found a Peanut”
her sweating mix
“It was Rotten.”
of twilit arms, legs,
vapored curses!
“Ate it anyway.”
Matured to
BREATHTAKING!
Thus far, 2
suicides in her wake,
3 leavers of organic wives,
with their organized lives.
She’s just warming up.
What done to spur such
heated outcomes?
Not much of anything.
Vital as example
of sheerest beauty,
she faintly learns
to do
as little
as possible.
Since you die anyway.
As many did last night.
And every night.
Labels: beauty, death, Fatal Woman, femme fatale, Jump Rope, Jump Rope Rhymes
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Legalistic Not a Good Look
Danley had tabbed her “piquant.”
The later Hortie, “one of Eddie Poe's
pale heroines.”
Both kind. Mostly. Deceased. Now she'd
try a bit of lipstick!
Some little color for the Board: likewise, kind.
Went well. Impressively. But, the old hurdle
again: TWO men.
The State had “proven” just one, she reminded.
And in an acknowledged weak case.
Couldn't, of course, stay with the piddling
legalistic.
Charm sincerely eased things, but not enough.
The warden brought the expected news later.
How kind of her!
Labels: Fatal Woman, Legal System, legalistic, murders, Parole Board
Thursday, June 02, 2016
At the Addiction Shop
it's Let’s Pretend. I’ve combined a few ingredients,
and try to fake I’m experimenting.
Of course, my Old Harrower still rules!
But, they’re not to find that out!
They do, of course, and I’m at The Committee!
Led by the triply-sweet Jennifer. Who digs at
the raw parts with efficiency!
Finally my nerves just can’t take it, and it just fires
out of me! “How many men have YOU ruined?”
“No, no. A frank exchange!” she answers those
who wish to expel me on the spot.
Her tack changes then to slow seduction. I’m promised
The Harrower forever if I go along. Implicitly promised,
naturally. Jens is nothing if not slick.
Well, grating story short, I’m ruined by her. And, by
the way, I make seven, three who committed suicide.
Then, tossed from Addiction Shop altogether!
I must put myself out with the trash the following
morning.
Sounds more terrible than it is. The guys just
put me in a separate compartment in their
huge truck. Lefty-2 brings coffee. Nice of him.
We shout over the rumbling.
“How can you be sure this is not my addiction?”
“It’s everybody’s!” He adds cream to his and
it shimmers.
“That's beautiful!” I tell him.
Labels: addiction, Fatal Woman, garbage men, social control, trash
Sunday, January 17, 2016
In There
"It’s too bad you can’t de-install a wife," remarked
Clancy at his computer. Who had none, but liked the idea.
His point of reference was Carlotta, one of his
waitpersons, married twice and widowed the same.
First, Cardiac, second Big C.
“You can always give reasons for things, but she’s
a Fatal Woman! Archetype!” maintained my Host
at his Guinness tap.
My tour ending in Copenhagen, and I had hopped
over to Ireland to what I called The Repair Zone.
I do the lighting for music groups, last the Middling
Maniacs. Nothing was middling, especially the drugs.
As did Carlotta, I stood out. Being of Italian
extraction in my case, and Hungarian Gypsy in hers.
Back to the States for a series of one-night stands.
“Nostalgia Ninety Tour.” Nearly a year, and worn out.
Then to Clancy and Carlotta. Married! Would you believe?
“I decided to take a chance on her black magic. Got some
of me own!”
They did a lot of joking this way, and Carlotta claimed
of me: “Maybe thiz new man, he iz next!”
"Well, you gotta kill ME first, and that ain’t gonna happen!”
maintained Clancy.
What happened is that Carlotta, after I had taken an
assignment in Germany, died in an auto accident.
Clancy emailed as to always always having driven
her before!
When I got back there, the new staff member, Bridget,
had taken over. Literally. A bossy, if beautiful, redhead.
“Absolutely no romance!” she swore to everyone.
Clancy whispered that he was afraid of her.
But there was a romantic aspect. She danced after
closing time, solo. Usually enacting her previous life.
One night, Clancy was asked to join in, which he
did reluctantly. Playing her dead husband, an
American like me, helicopter pilot shot down
in Afghanistan.
The next time they danced, she acted out Carlotta!
He, her two husbands. They were very good, my
dancers, a rough draft of ballet.
“I’m quitting the dance racket!” laughed Clancy the
following evening. Or she’ll have ME be Carlotta!
I'm making up reasons to get out of the weirding
there, when a week later, she compels me to dance in
his place. But...warmer.
Well, story short. He takes me in as his partner after
she and I marry. She dances solo redhead, taking all
the parts. I’m too busy. When she plays me...!
Well, creepy.
By now, I’m bringing in small rock groups from all over
Europe, and lighting them. Business has tripled.
Bridget has taken over the management, and Clancy and
I are pretty much PR men, often traveling separately.
No more dancing for anyone!
But it’s in there.
Labels: dancing, Fatal Woman, lighting, pub, Rock, women
Friday, January 15, 2016
What's In One?
Name
-I’ll tell you again. It’s Laurelthea.
-Her parents came up with that during their
most rancid screw!
-Whatever. She’s old news.
-Did you call her Laurel? Or Thea?
-She insisted on Laurelthea. “My name is me!”
-Did that pass for profound back then?
-Everything did!
-Grade Inflation.
-Well I get F!
-Uh uh! SHE does! Circe the Ruin Girl!
Job she did on you belongs in textbooks!
-I’m a Jimmy Buffet fan.
-(sings) Some folks claim that there’s a woman
to blame!
-(sings) But it’s my own damn fault!
-So you take responsibility! Why?
-Because that’s the greatest con there is!
////
Would smell as sweet? Really!
Budge said that Gwen was
really a Cynthia. It caught
on with the gang and her
real name all but forgotten.
Even her parents took to calling
her that. A brother and sister
had moved out and never phoned.
Of course, she was still legally Gwendolyn.
In filling out college forms, paying taxes,
driver's license.
When she came of age, she decided to
change it in law.
But in a gigantic screwup, the petition
stated she was Cynthia, changing to
Gwendolyn.
She's back officially Gwen, and all have
left her. Parents for some retirement
heaven in Equador, gang peeling off.
Her brother and sister emailed her once,
and that was it.
But a boyfriend came weaving down the pike,
a drunk, of course. She's afraid of losing him.
She does smell sweet by the way. He? Don’t ask!
Labels: a rose by, Circe, Fatal Woman, friends, Jimmy Buffet, name, parents, person as name, siblings
Saturday, December 12, 2015
Final Plan
The Same Conversation
-Okay then, you take a cruise. Two-AM, off fantail go you!
-Done!
-Swim to exhaustion, won't even know when sharks
getting to it. Little guys finishing up, thousands.
-Then?
-Eventually, bleached bones on a beach somewhere.
-Great! I'm scenic!
-Here comes the Science! I study charts, currents, decide
which beach, and the whole gang parties there!
-How could it be better? I'm enjoying it now!
-Uh...invite Dorrie? Your call there?
-Why not? Her whole life's been a fuckin gloat!
Labels: beach, cruise, currents, decay, drowning, Fatal Woman, friend, gloating, punctured affair, science, sharks, suicide
Friday, February 13, 2015
Three Archetypal Women
Doc Mac, Noggo the reader, Slice, deli guy
-Bitsy is a Fatal Woman.
She’s killed one man,
and ruined seven...
and counting.
-Like Circe, she turns
men into swine!
-What’s hard about that?
...
The Easy Game
At the athletic club we chatted
about a certain total cuteness.
Shorty overheard, warning
“Stay a hundred miles away!
Pure Poison! Guy over in
Fletcher killed hisself!”
Chubby, Maroon, and I threw
towels at him. He was supposed
to collect them anyway, this
Crabapple Jones in everything!
Maroon remarked, "Pure Poison,
hey? Well, who's pure in everything?
We're all amalgams."
Not in her case. A year later she
had gone through each, our
nerves shot.
We invited a Shaman, Paint Horse
of the Waluta Tribe, to come to
Chubby's house.
Must return at least twice more:
“Bad Woman Magic!”
“That’s ambiguous!” Maroon has said.
“And with his strange intonations, you
can’t pin it down.”
“Give him a break! He’s trying to get
us right with the Spirit World.” -Chubs.
“I’ll settle for this shattering one!”
...
A Certain Kind of Club
Come on, Mick! You act as if I’m
killing you!
Mick?
Mick!
Is Doctor Fessbinder in the club?
Labels: cute, Fatal Woman, friendship, relationship, sex, sex club, Shaman, Spirit World
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Flirtation
Incident
Brawnette, on an errand to Shipping, flirted with Mackey
and Hork. So pretty, even in a loose white coat.
They later speculated on who she liked better.
Each man believing it was he.
Then, alone, at a locker, rejecting the idea, shaking at
its nerve.
Outside, the winter light purpling.
The department had buzzed; the plant beginning to follow.
Laughing hints at widespread lockers.
Both men killed in separate traffic accidents late that icy evening.
From thence, Dr Dellacondif, lab boss, assumed an even
crisper propriety.
Labels: Fatal Woman, Fate, femme fatale, flirt, work
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Strategic Living, if Fatal
Hurting as Part and Parcel
-I broke it off with acid finality, having, too, a feeling for him:
that I couldn't humiliate him one more time.
-And he...?
-Stopped trying with my sex. Turned off.
-Settled in with the other?
-That'd require too much verve. Just...licks his wounds.
-And you?
-A dozen have smiled their way in, and cried their way out.
-Real femme fatale!
-I carry that card.
-And where has all of it gotten you?
-Exactly nowhere.
-You're supposed to add: But it's been fun!
-The taste lingers much too bitterly for that.
-The Sad Connoisseur of Love?
-Ditch the sad part. That’s for suckers. Realistic, more like.
Labels: Fatal Woman, femme fatale, relationships, sex
