flaming jewels

on the corner

view: start from the bottom & work your way up.

begin with cracked pavement.

on the corner.

in the circle of light from the street lamp: two combat boots. black leather, tightly laced. one hand (my hand) holding a red bandanna, gently rubs the scuffed toe of one boot.

spit. wipe. polish.

i hate it when my boots get grimy.

watch my wrist & fingers move, slowly swabbing both toes down. three cock rings on this arm. short fingernails, dirt underneath them. hands covered with small cuts. oddly shaped scabs.

follow my hand and the bandanna, as i straighten up.

up past the top of the boots, snugly fastened and buckled just at my calves. up along the black & white striped stockings. skinny legs. knees always bent, just a little. crooked legs. follow the horizontal circles of black & white up and up to a flash of bare thigh.

watch as i stuff the balled-up bandanna in the front pocket of my shorts. green u.s. army fatigue pants cut off. frayed edges. men's pants. the waistband rests on my hips. one dirty corner of the red bandanna sticks out of my pocket.

i reach into the other pocket and pull out a folded up knife. my valuable hunting knife.

watch as i lift the knife to my lips.

follow the lines of my torso, up along the men's suspenders (or "braces," as constantine says) that i like to wear backwards. it's like the vicious "Y" shape of an autopsy scar along my chest. i need 'em to keep the too-big trousers on.

wouldn't you like to know
if i really do have
an autopsy
scar?

under the suspenders a men's white cotton undershirt. sleeveless. cut off. my arms are long and ropy and bare. pale thin arms. but strong. wiry.

watch as i unfold the hunting knife
right in front of my face.

around my neck, various charms and pendants: a silver cross, a gold crucifix, a daisy-chain choker from jetgrrrl, an ankh on a leather thong, a small pewter box with an intricately carved dragon. and beads colorful plastic beads--long strands tossed over my shoulders, dripping down my back.

watch as i hold the knife in front of my face.
watch me as i stand, motionless, on this corner
under the
street lamp.

my face is pale, and framed by red-yellow hair about two inches long. a black top hat smashes the spiky clumps of hair around my forehead and ears. i love this hat, but it's seen better times. old, with a fraying brim and nappy spots from the rain.

been out in the rain too long.

i try to jazz it up with a green scarf and a yellow carnation.

watch me as i put the knife to my lips.
my valuable hunting knife.

i'm not wearing any make-up except for lipstick. never could put on eye-liner with a steady hand, or apply mascara without clumps. but i can do lipstick.

i have what you could call a
     generous mouth.
wide soft lips that thin out
into a broad grin
i like to take the lip pencil and draw a cupid's-bow outline
then color it in.
i like it when my--
     how can i say it?
          "bee stung bouche"
is red red red
and smiling.

i have what you could call a
big mouth.
and generous lips
made for smooching.

watch as i lick the six inch silver blade
with my too-pink tongue
watch me standing in this
street corner spotlight.

i guess i've got some sort of oral fixation.
i'm always putting stuff
in my mouth--
lollipops, candy, popsicles, ice cream cones, cigars and knives.

well, yes, knives.

watch me as i slide the knife into my mouth and draw it out
s l o w l y
there's a trick
to not cutting your lips
or tongue

it's a zen-thang, kind of a jedi-mind-trick
that i can't explain
it's not really the speed with which i
     shove it in or
          pull it out
it's more the pressure
     of my lips around the blade
which is gentle
but not too--

i like to feel the knife in my mouth
     think about what i could do
          with my valuable hunting knife
i like to run my tongue along it
     and hold it
          in my clenched teeth.

watch me standing alone on the street corner
sucking on a
silver knife
with my hands stuffed in my pockets
slouched
with crooked-bent knees
and spit-shined boots.

behind me--if you're not too distracted by the blade poking
     around my cheek--
you might see
a slight disturbance in the air
something like
     heat waves rising off the highway
or like the lines you see in front of your eyes
     when you've stared at a light
               too long.

that's my invisible wings
stretching & flexing.

and i know you've been watching me all this time
but i've been watching a
1975
maverick
parked down the street which has now
gunned its engine
as i attempt to
swallow my knife.

the
1975
maverick
pulls alongside me as i draw out the knife
     leaving a trace of lipstick or blood
          on the blade.
the door
creaks open
and i lean in to see
just a man's hand
          half-clenched
& resting on the back of the front seat.

a nice big ruby ring on the fourth finger
big enough to leave a lovely mark
on pale skin.

i slowly fold up my knife and slip it back into my pocket.

i bend from the waist and touch the brim of my hat.
i say to the man
in the
1975
maverick:

"m'sieur, i would be pleased to have a
date
with you......................"

and i slide into the car
grinning
my
bee stung bouche
thinned out
in a large wound-like smile.

jewel@gleeful.com
a seraph production