Friday

When It Rained

I was fourteen, she was twenty something.
She called herself Zsa Zsa most nights,
a big blonde with Vargas tits
and a bad complexion that began at the bone.

She had a one room walk-up off Sunset strip,
the only window looked out at a billboard
for Evian water. She said it was as close to
the Hollywood sign as she would ever get.

Her hair was dyed the color of champagne clouds,
and she wore a tight black tee that read
“You must have been a beautiful baby”
in warped block letters across her chest.

She would snort giggles and say all the swingers
were just dads in plaid suits, looking for lost
years under strange petticoats, warming
cold regret with Mastercard and Jack.

She knew things that were cool, like Saki
was born in Burma, if you could make a saxophone
cry you would never be alone, and you can
roll a decent joint in Tampax sleeves.

And on rainy nights when business was bad,
she would invite me home like company,
give me whiskey and head while Gillespie
played his trumpet in perfect sync.

3 comments:

Eric 'Bubba' Alder said...

"Vargas tits" is a great cultural reference. I remember the drawing of his that was used for the cover of the "Candy-O" album by The Cars.

My kitchen worktops said...

This flows like a Bob Dylan song. Eg this bit: She would snort giggles and say all the swingers / were just dads in plaid suits, which I read with this emphasis:


She would snort ... giggles and say aaaaall the swiiingers ... were just daaaaaaads ... in plaid suits

Does that even make sense?

The Lettershaper said...

Yes...thanks!