The Sex Queen of the Brelin Turnpike

  "coulda been

Little Miss Rich Bitch layin' on my yacht"

but claimed her father left

his inheritance behind

when the Mob's hitmen climbed

his trail. So,

she's the doe-eyed darling of the clipjoints

on the Strip. She flashes

her tits for tips from bikers

& lonely old men

in glasses

steamed with dreams of what never was.

Her nectarine nipples

tease me, her buns swing the breeze

that sucks up my buck

on her wake

of chestnut hair. She feeds my fantasies

the way I feed her lost

wealth---what I can afford to give.

But she still lives bitter,

broke, strung out

on coke in neon turnpike motels

& runs out on the rent.

While I listen to her story

to escape from my own

she pays back

the memories of her father.