Friday, November 6, 2015

Mimi - Mona Poetry: Pink-Polka-Dot Men Laugh

The Gods have fashioned us for love. 
That is our great glory, and it is our great tragedy.

IF YOU ARE FAMILIAR
WITH MONA ARIZONA,
YOU WILL BE FAMILIAR
WITH THE TYPE OF
POETRY SHE SOMETIMES
PUTS TO PAPER.
READER BEWARE,
THIS IS ONE OF THOSE POEMS!

©Pink-Polka-Dot Men Laugh
and pay Zara — they have
poison oak but they want what
the heavy-breasted whore
on The Upper Haight sells.
It’s more than fortunes if you
know the right name when
you call to purchase her
services. Dark stairs lead
men and women to her rooms.
They’re there for her to fuck them
in the back room, away from
the prying eyes and busy nose
of her brother who is visiting.
In the front, she takes money
from widows, women with
no lovers, and sensitive men;
she makes up stories and
tells paying customers lies
based on what she has read
in the news, on the web, on
social media sites they have joined,
and from all she has learned
during her life on the streets.
They believe her. She is quite
convincing with her Tarot cards
and crystal ball on its brass stand.
In the back room, the polka-
dot men drop an easy three
one hundred dollar bills for Zara to
suck their brains out through
their cocks and more C-spots from
each to let them poke her in the
back door, to bring a friend, and
to place her chocolate thighs
on the sides of their heads
and sit on their faces so they
can jam their tongues into
her wide cave and prove
they are man enough to
find the nonexistent nectar
and suck it down. One pushes
her aside and yells “Mama!
Phew! That sure is some damn fine
vulva-aid you got down there!”
She laughs. The pink polka-dot
men laugh and the others pay
to prove they can do it, too.
They put three more Benjamins
on her table so they can
sandwich her between two
of them while she lets the
third drill her mouth.
In the morning, before she
changes the sheets so she
can sleep, Zara counts
her earnings. It’s been a
long night; she’s cold and
she’s hungry, but she smiles.
She would have taken
out her teeth for the third
man, but he didn’t have
an extra fifty for the thrill.


by Mona Arizona
All Rights Reserved


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