Like *Gone,* Baby

Psychedelic lights swirled
peace and love over flat-black walls
that absorbed everything.  
America was free to be as
ugly as she wanted.

I did the pony and the jerk
but nobody paid attention
to my dancing even before I stripped.  

Sitting at a table, trying to hustle 
drinks off truckdrivers,
I'd wrap my palms around candles
in glass covered with white plastic netting
that softened in the hum
of flame absorbing air.

When I got drunk, Bruno thought I was crazy,
walking to each table, sniffing dirty roses
like the Queen of Sheeba in my feather boa,
gently bending over to enjoy them,
getting my fanny spanked by men
that Nicki set me up with.

I learned why men love cars.
They trap women in them
and call it a date.  After a few, 
I quit fighting so it wouldn't hurt 
when I peed the next day.  

Nicki taught me about love. 
In order to love a man, 
you gotta act like a man
which makes it impossible
to love anyone.

She turned tricks to buy fancy
toliet water and said it was a shame 
that I didn't have the heart of a whore.

I thought she meant I didn't have a heart.

I should have known she'd be leaving,
should have known why 
she had to keep moving:

*Go Go Girl.*



copyright 1994 kathy jo kramer