Bébé Lives!

 
For her, God is a single look.  
She hooks when others never see.  
 
Cruising, babbling brook down the street,  
Musing, she wades with tender feet.  
 
Barefoot, ankle straps from shoulder,  
Unspoken rule across her hem>>  
Only boys, age 10, no older.
 
Shivering from a thermal breeze
That tries to tease, soliciting.
She feels her thong between the crease.
 
Yet still she shakes when morning breaks,
Constant reminder of the rut,
Sun’s smile, moon’s guile - purest other.
 
Incestuous, sister/brother.
Her youth, the only truth she had,
So long ago, just yesterday.
 
She’s in her favorite yellow dress
With tussled hair, Bebe! Obsess!
 
It stopped existing years ago;
That dress, eternal best of show.
 
The single flat with shower stall,
And hot plate: where to put it all?
 
Sits cross-legged on Persian rug,
Rolls blunts in stars & stripes just right;
It’s gonna be a stoner’s night.
 
Spinning round, the girl in her plays,
Tumble down, glimpse of sex displays;
Turning brown, in the sun for days.
 
Mem’ries God tells her inner child
Who stays behind a while to eat,
Then moves away and gives up meat.
 
This isn’t her first rodeo,
With soft’ner sheets b’tween her swell
(Still smells of all-night laundromat).
 
And ‘G’ gives her that look again.
Like always, she’s the only one
He parlays to be with his son.
 
His La-La skips down Venice Beach,
She wears tie-dye tees, ten bucks each,
And rainbow socks with separate toes.
 
And as he watches wistfully  
The way her ass does peekaboo,
He settles down upon one knee;
 
“Might just as well give up the streets.
So that’s the way it is and goes.
Now wipe yourself & blow your nose.”