Saira Viola

Suzie Q

Honey eyed bikini leather girl

The flashing pussy of revolution

she wore French open toed stilettos in the shower

and every Thursday baked artisanal cookies for the


Boomshakalaka ! Boom! Boom!

Her hips swayed left to right

and when the rain bounced off the cleft of her butt

the whole world stood up or at least the front row

of working stiffs in the subway car.

She narrowed her eyes and left her giggle on

a passing billboard .

Crossing her long bronzed legs she

winked at a sober suited lawyer


Noisy brash voice hard Republican eyes

he leered as if she were a piece of prime

real estate ready to be bought flipped and sold over.

Arrogant puffy cheeked  man bragging about his

holiday home in The Hamptons

and the price of grass fed beef

so idyllic.

The hairs in his nose salted grey

jangling his hot rod keys he wanted

everyone to know he was a SOMEBODY.

All Suzie could see was a piggy pig pig in

dirty pants and penny tan loafers.

She yawned smudging her mascara

He stepped closer

so close she could smell

his crooked middle class waxed anus

when he whispered:

‘Aren’t you a naughty girrrrrrrrrrl?’

‘You sound like flaccid Mike.’ He moved back .Red faced contempt .

‘And you’re a bitch.’

‘Le chien femme ? Really ! That’s all you got ?’

Through gnashing teeth

‘You winked at me.’

‘So what ? Now you own me ?’

‘I thought we had a …’

‘A what ? A moment in the sweaty armpit of a subway commute ?

Foaming with anger spittle frosting  his moustached mouth.

‘Easy bitch.’

She blew him a faux air born kiss

and sidled up to a blonde sharp cheeked athletic  hot rod .

As she ran her fingers playfully on his star lit  face

Teasing looks and  cell  numbers were exchanged.

At the next stop she got off

and so did ‘Flaccid Mike.’

Stalking her with murderous eyes

Suzie , sweet slut succumbing to the red lipped mouth of midnight

primed and ready for action.

Clip clop .  Clip clop. Heel screech-

the flies in the wall listening to every beat .

As she climbed the  grubby piss stained  stairs

teetering giddily  on the soles of her feet

‘Flaccid Mike,’ crept slowly behind her

Silent Sith .

Brooklyn dust on the sidewalk  glinting  pink  with


beads -colonising every

exit and every turn

Chugging smog made  emaciated  throats burn .

He grabbed her neck -peach blossom soft

and squeezed until her lungs became thickened

with his bloody deed.

Pinned down- butterfly breaths

fluttering on broken bone Suzie Q

drifting drifting  .

She was so proud of her window box flowers

and  her raisin cookies  for the homeless.


Champagne Lap Dance With Baudelaire

Shah Jahan autographed

the Taj Mahal

and dead beetle wings

sit in yesterday’s ash tray

She got an emoji

telling her it was over

The   light that shines on

the whip bitched    lines  of her face

is feeble thin choked by a curtain of grey

She was free in her dream

smooth -toned ballet limbed

wild -honey sweet

She shimmied all over Baudelaire

Babbled kooky  about Parisian  jazz dudes

and plaited  his black violet  hair

Death was hovering  on a semen spotted   chair

Last night he watched  champagne bubbles cork  and pirouette the air

his long face  shadowing her heart

She heard sparrows in the trash can

but never woke up.

2 thoughts on “Saira Viola

  1. Fuck this stuff is good ! How many lines can I quote ‘crooked middle class waxed anus .’ I mean this stuff is off the chart and the ‘sparrows in the trash can .’ We need to read more of this and less schmaltz . This is angry visceral tight Thanks for the ride .


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