Posted on

Goldner (2)

Harvey Goldner

Two Poems


La Belle D.C. Dame Sans Money And
The Man From The State Department
                 for Tina and Tiffany

He met Ms. Pussy in a Georgetown bar.
She was drinking doubles, Remy Martin,
through lips painted shocking-scarlet,
which the girls called cocksuckingred.

Her speech was a stew of London,
New York, Paris, Valley Girl and
porch-talk-under-a-Georgia-moon.
She fed him chili with her spoon.

Bowie sang: Let’s Dance, and she did.
Her hair swept the floor like a broom,
and her ass was as high as a sprinter’s,
squeezed into the gold lamé of life.

He bought a room.  For an hour
she was his wife.  It trembled
like a flower.  Time cannot
erase the sweet moan she made

while she sat upon his face.
He woke alone to find
she’d cleaned him out: cash,
cards, car keys, and coke.

His car turned up a week later,
wrecked
beside a cold hill
outside Brunswick, Georgia.



At a Montana Truckstop

“My girl friends
have all ways
been cow boys,”
said the old

trucker
adjusting
his Peter-
bilt cap.



back to 27