The entertainer on the stage 

Looks me dead in the eyes

Then yells

And says

“What the fuck you lookin at?”



In distress

I knew 

No one 

Was coming to my rescue


Planted front and center

Face to face

With the heel of a stiletto

I blinked and it blinked back 

Yeah, that coochie rose


My eyes open wide


Shame on me!

For softly gliding my vision

Over curves and crevices

And stifling every nuance


Who knew

I was this sick and vile

Treasure hunter

Ready to conquer vessels

Smother dunes

And ruffle up bushes


How insensitive of me 

Not to come to her rescue

And save her virtue


How could I miss the message?

Hidden in her strut

While distracted 

by her oily perspiration

and the glistening

which seemed like remnants of constellations


At what point 

Did her pulse begin to flat line

And stiffen her stance

As members rose in salute


And so she positioned herself 

Firmly and surely

In her welcome the world pose



Apparently showing up 


Was not welcomed

And my salutation




I guess my bill was only worth a peek

Not a stare 

Not a glare

But little did she know

Of what I seek


You see,

My charity wasn’t in exchange for treats

It wasn’t a thank you note either

It was a toss into her wishing well

So that she may somehow save

Her peace from the hands of hell

And hopefully listen

For the long awaited silent rescue signs

Muffled ever more 

By the breath of serpents 

Lurking every which where


But that filthy bill

That landed at her toes

Carried more weight 

And was as heavy

As all bills she’d over collected

Put together

And she’d find out too late


Her stare hid dark secrets

And cover up was no match for

Her bruises, cuts and scratches


That ring around the neck 

Spelled mischief 

Not cheap costume jewelry


She could not get past my stealth look

Or the beard 

Or the curls


It reminded her 

Of what she’d returned too 

After she collects

And gets on her way





Before arriving 

She detours

For fixes

His and hers


If only 

Those fixes 

Fixed what’s broken

She’d stop chasing rainbows

And poison her self a little less


With no one to turn too

The bills in her pocket 

Allowed her to mitigate

The cracks 

And whips 

And blows

To follow 

Every morning 

From the stealthy, bearded, curly haired




By this point

Turns to destiny

And honey 

Shakes them cheeks and thighs

In exchange for later’s cries

And that’s her demise


The cynic maniacal

All the while

Is so pious

In his eyes she’s the sinner

When every night before dawn

She’d lust and toss and turn 

In all the wrong places

And so his greatness 

Disciplines such actions

And so as long 

In return, exists repent

Forgiveness is granted 


This relentless confiscation 

Of her inner and outer skin

Sheared her relationship 

From her 

One true love 

From above


And on this night 

At the end of her set

She collects 

All her bills

Even mine

And off she went.


She’d stumble all the way home

Of course


For a fix 


Pocket was not as full

And so she’d do a favor

For party favors

And she’s out of gum

And prides and joys 

She decides to carry home


She was tired 

She was bitter

She was broken

The door opens


The stealthy, bearded, curly haired man

Sitting there

On his favorite chair 

Like a child waiting for milk and cookies

Looked on in a daze

While dehydrated and in need of a magic moment

She gestured and lured him in

He slowly creeps to her

Not knowing what to think or do

But express his phallic manhood

He grabs her forcefully

Caresses her neck

Goes for the throat

And forces his way into her mouth and

Swirls his tongue violently

Tasting something rancid

He tries to pull away 

She locks her legs around him 

Dumping every pride and joy she carried

Into him


The rage was like no other

This was the day of reckoning

He’d get his fix on first

And then got to it

First taking all her money,

The very little she had 

And noticed the bill

That bill with all the weight

The bill that I tossed into her wishing well


Words did not follow

























She drops to the ground

Notices all her bills 

On the floor

He begins too 

Choke life out of her

She doesn’t fight back

Blood clouds her vision

And she’s face to face with the bill

And as she’s gasping for air

She shakes her head 

So that blood flows

In another direction

And on her last breath

She read 


“I’m not that guy”

“I’m not that guy”

“I’m not that guy”


“Call me”…….


“I can help”


I guess I did.


-Salvador Martinez


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