flash paper

when i was younger
and of a mind
to patronize
dance clubs
meat markets
irish pubs
and strobe lit
techno bars

before smoking
was banned on earth

i had a wicked little trick
for getting rid of unwanted admirers
hell bent on
not taking no
for an answer

never a smoker myself

but my best girl friend and wing man
was permanently attached
to a marlboro red

i would take little trips
to the magic store
haines house of cards

a norwood treasure

buying myself a few books
of flash paper

when extreme measures
were called for
i would casually ask her for a drag
off her cigarette
keep dreadfully calm
inhaling the death with my right hand

in my left hand
i would palm
a tiny wadded up piece
of apollo’s paper

after the third
get lost, man
we already asked you nicely twice
was ignored

and his hot slurred-breath hostility
began to show

my hands would rise
as i lunged at him

with a swiftness
his jagermeister brain
couldn’t process

bringing the tobacco’s fire
to touch the incendiary device
at the tip of his nose

i became a witch
throwing flames
into his burning eyes

my gutteral madwoman screaming
“motherfucker
I will eat your heart while you’re still alive!
RUN RUN RUN!”

you’d be surprised
how fast a bald headed
goatee and cargo short wearing
cincinnati bratwurst man
can run drunk in flip flops

the first time i pulled that slight of hand
outside the warehouse on vine
in over-the-rhine

i looked down

to find my best friend
had pissed her fishnets
laughing

there are many ways women learn
to remain alive