Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

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
I will eat your heart while you’re still alive!

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

there are many ways women learn
to remain alive

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

on the blue line

he had been loudly staring at me
over his new york times
magazine section
for the duration
of the train ride

his trench coat was wet
so was i

that night
i would have remained seated
until the rockaways
to keep looking into his victor mature eyes

overcome with a case of
girl, you damn well know better
i ran through the doors
just before they closed
at the next stop
on the blue line

he stood against the glass
looking beautiful

as i held fast to the thought

i have a friend close by
on utica avenue
who always wants to go for a drink
after a day of war

and she
gets me pregnant

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing


last night i fell asleep
reading on the couch
waking at 1 a.m. to find the television on

the screen displayed a commercial
featuring a woman applying makeup in a mirror
explaining to her bumbling husband
who was showering
(and illiterate for the purpose of this advertisement)
that he was washing his face with
her ph balanced summer’s eve feminine wash

she said if it was gentle enough for his face
it was gentle enough for her “V”
yes, you read that correctly
she actually referred to her vagina as
the letter “V”

i take issue with douchepeddlers
who are afraid to use the word vagina

but more than this
i take issue with the false dynamics necessary
to convince a woman
she needs to purchase a special soap
to wash her mysterious nether regions

it requires making a vaginal soap that reads
“External Use Only” on the bottle
what a mixed message

it requires a marketing campaign
creating the fear that your vagina
will smell like swamp snatch if you get caught using ordinary soaps or washes

it requires consumerism as disease
lurking within your female genitalia

it requires willing suspension of disbelief
and forgetting that women
somehow managed to wash their crotches
before 2008

and their is no male equivalent
for a man’s penis and testicles
the shelves are all together devoid
of axe brand cock n’ ball wash
because men are less gullible consumers

remember that

the soap
the marketing
the fear
the dichotomy
the disease

the next time your unwashed anxieties
dictate you spend

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing


the stranger leaned in
to breathe my smell
so deeply
he nearly aspirated my hair
in the grocery line

it made me feel dirty
as if i were there
buying box wine

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

smile like you’re not wearing spanx

the only thing
a bitter fat woman
hates more than a skinny gal
is another big girl
who knows
how to feel
sexy & comfortable
in her body

it leaves no room
for mom jeans
bathing suit cover ups
or fear and loathing in baskin robbins