Two girls in pink parkas --
Impregned by
polyester --
Recall the
Alphabetical Lilith,
Sucking steadily at their cigarettes,
Pausing and forcefully relieving
Their lungs of a fragile smoke.
They’re
right under the
“Thank You For Not Smoking” sign,
And look at each other smugly
As they move their mouths –
I can’t hear what they’re saying,
Just the
tones of their cackles –
With the most
prudent manners.
I can see each of them,
Wrestling a
Semitic Patriarch,
Impaled on his colored rod,
In her
most comfortable suit,
And whining to her
native god
With
wishniak blush in her face
When she realizes after all the struggle
That she will never pin him down.
The
rods in their mouths are just the same,
And the girls will love them
passionately,
Until they get around to testing themselves,
And fail to roll the
big white man,
In his
most comfortable suit,
Taking his advantage of them.
They’ll ask
God a few questions,
But by this time, He won’t be in the business
Of
nicotine gum or lame
theodicy.