Yes, Alice, Poets Do Have Balls

image borrowed from bing

Yes, Alice, Poets Do Have Balls

“A dress makes no sense unless it inspires men

to want to take it off you.”--Francoise Sagan.

Brian came

           as bad boy Banksy, wearing

                              Ray Ban silver goggles, paint-smeared gloves

           with no fingers, with his mohawk

                                                 moussed straight up, with

                                                 red tips like cock Chanticleer;

he had three 10 foot wide canvasses

                               already painted like the sides of buildings,

& he was busy with his paint cans

                                               creating graffiti art

                                               that had Israeli fighter jets

dueling with Hamas rocket launchers,

                    while Obama & other heads of state

                    stood by wrapped in their country’s flags.

Claudia came as Zenobia,

                    the rebel Queen of Tadmor,

                                    paramour to Simon, the son of Barrabas,

                     tall & tanned, shirtless, & on her arm;

her gilded crown was offset

                                    by a large ruby in her navel, accenting

                                    her tight & toned tummy. She held court

over in a corner in front of her easel,

               where she painted watercolor caricatures

                                    of the guests. 

Bjorn came as hero Gideon Sunback, who

                        invented the modern prototype

for the zipper, wearing

                        a very tall felt top hat &

                        a  very tight red leather jump suit

that was covered with 100 multi-colored zippers, whose

              heads tinkled like fairy tunes

                                    as he pranced around giving

out those delicious Marabou Swedish chocolate bars. 

Glenn came as a Thracian gladiator,

           with a wide leather belt barely encasing his bulk,

his bulging waist trussed but still ample, his hairy

            chest properly salted with age, with leather wrist

                                    straps laced up with cat gut,

carrying a small shield on his left shoulder,

                                       & a short rubber-tipped Roman

gladius on his right hip, working

                  the room, saying to everyone--

                  “Hi, I am Spartacus, how you doin’ ?”

Gay sat on plush red & yellow cushions playing her guitar,

                            warbling Joni Mitchell,

                                          Joan Baez &

                                          Carol King tunes, dressed

like a hippy goddess in a bright tie-dyed khafkan 

                             & a long earthen brown flowing skirt,

with fresh flowers in her hair; with a small crowd

                             of admirers gathered at her bare feet. 

Victoria came as Florence Nightgale, with

             the crimson red cross

                             on her starched white nurse’s cap,

perfectly matching the red of 

                             the short velvet cape she wore;

sitting demurely at a red card table,

signing & giving away copies of

                              WINTER HAS PAST &

                              THE SIN OF HIS FATHER.

Laurie was in a beach outfit, wearing

           a wide brimmed straw hat, with

           a golden ribbon as its hat band,

over-sized pink sunglasses,

                         sequined lip gloss, with

a well-worn Texas A&M tank top

                         over her green bikini top

& the shortest shorts one could imagine; sitting

              on a blue couch

                         hob-knobbing with everyone

                         who strolled by; talking all about

how she was fixin’ to publish a new book real soon.

Shanyn was there too, dressed up like Annie Oakley,

                           carrying her Red Ryder air rifle, feeding

her Shetland Palomino pony,

                            carrots & oats out of a chrome bucket, offering

free rides to everyone’s kids, her own laugh

                so infectious, the place erupted with the delectable

bubbly laughter of dozens of children. 

Yeah, I think everyone made an appearance.

          Joe was there dressed up like Jim Bridger, letting

everyone play with his black powder muzzle-loader.

          Mary had her three canine companions,

                                Violet,

                                 Basil &

                                 Tulip

all on jeweled leashes, & they were wagging their butts

as they kiss-licked all the newcomers at the door.

          Tony was in a kilt, wearing a ten gallon cowboy hat.

                         Man, when would this boisterous reverie

ever end?         It has been going on for three days

now--it will probably last

                         362 more days.

                         That’s the rumor,

& I’m sticking to it. 

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over on dVerse Poets 3rd Anniversary Ball

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