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May |
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a poem by Paul C. Stevens |
Suicide Jenny Raises Bail
in a nice straight line down her thin pale wrists because Phearless Phil didn't love her enough, she splashed warm love freely, everywhere. Phil knew the drill, led her outside: the ambulance had sirened up-- Jenny, topless, silent, both of them burqaed in blood. Johnny and me just stood and gawked, straight away knowing the bulls would be screaming round to that crashpad, for sure. We had to split. Of amphetamine Kings Cross, slept in the park, each nursing a bottle of beer, nursing the night and the crowds, nursing the world and the dirt, and the sirens, and white fields of white and white and Mum's hand white stroking my head white. casually kicked us straight back to full-color big-screen awake, awake, o my brothers, to be vagged, dragged, bagged, down to Central Courthouse, the holding tank, steaming us slow in piss and tobacco, spew and sweat, and really hard concrete walls. Suits said, "Plead guilty, you'll be sweet-- we'll go real easy--suspended sentence." But the beak didn't like our boyish looks and our long greasy hair: six months each to protect Society from back-alley flotsam, vagrant poets, strip-club Rimbauds, and suchlike desperados. stitched and pale, shaken but staunch, dirty bandage trailing,she rose from her bed, limped on down to the Cross, sighed, hitched up her skirt and hawked her fork to sailors, to johns just in from the west seeking golly good times, come one, come all. Then back to the pub--Jenny passed 'round the hat, took all that cash, fronted the courthouse, slammed it all on the desk: "I've come to bail them out!" The desk sergeant laughed: "They're sentenced and long gone-- six months in Long Bay!" She picked up the money marched back to the pub, threw the dollars on the bar: "I'm shouting everyone a drink!" |
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All poems © by their respective authors. Otherwise, site content © 2008, 2009 by Jack T. Marlowe |