I’m trying to get a little shuteye under this tree
but the snake insists on talking,
hanging from her tail & forking her tongue at me.
Its time to shed that shit, she says.
& the reason is very simple –
you don’t have the stuff
to just step out of that fakeskin
and slither away.
Remember your old slither sounds?
You were full of them once –
swirl and slake and lithe and unleashable –
because whoever saw a snake on a leash!
I suggest you slide on out of yours
and decorate yourself up a lamp post.
Put your tail in your mouth & roll your own.
Go on, rustle up something tasty.
Something with ssss’s in it. Maybe an mmmmm.
Oh, it’s such a catchy tune she sings,
with her little red fangs tickling the ivories,
I say to her,
I’ll give you this tree to live in
& you can help me eat all the apples.
Nope, she says.
I just showed up
to check out this fine garden you inherited.
But remember, honey –
& she does that Lauren Bacall thing with her hips
as she slides out the gate –
It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing.