The Seventh Knot

The last flurry of rain  
burns from the windshield  
of the red magnet Ferrari  
as he revs to a stop
window already down  
      
This baby ought to come easy
It rarely took long in this heat
not when when the spider
has happened on a fly
with her cherry gagging steam
for a ride
      
Her dress
skimps borderline hooker
tight ass curves  
zapping too much thigh  
slaying the sidewalk  
with 'look at me' make up  
and a sassy smile
nestling in a tumble of curls  
      
He stares  
at the tacky Hallmark lines  
inked thinly in black  
across the pale heart of her arm  
"Sweet 17 & born to be wild"
He has a tattoo of his own  
with Aleister Crowley eyes
 
The yellow silk scarf  
tightly knotted six times
was a keepsake from his mother
left in her will when she died
It dozes for now    
patient in the glove box  
a snake ready to dance  
around the freckles  
on a wild girl's throat
He made sure  
it was always folded    
exactly the same    
each coil  
resting neatly in its place
Hadn't Mommy always insisted
only perfection  
would ever suffice  
nothing but the best    
for her darling little boy    

And those lips
might have been perfect
until they began to scream    
He sometimes wondered about that
but it was always too late--
and long before it was over
just like the others
they were already cold  
turning bluer than his spade
dirty with blood in the moonlight
while he dutifully tied
the seventh knot