The Queen Of Spades Poem by Bera Tremoz

She looks at me,
down on me,
as if she meant something,
as if she was worth anything
other than a nasdaq quote,

she talks to me,
down on me,
as if she was wholy
Mary,
as if her mansion
its lonely emptiness
its two fat cats
its Christian radio playing
gospel and jazz
all day long
mean anything
more than a solitary
New Age Church,

She doesn't want to
argue,
she wants to impose,
as if her sulfur
stinking
hairy bush
meant anything
more than a failed
one night stand,

because at 40 years old
she can sue me
a thousand times
and win,
she can fire me
with the flick of a
dried fried finger,
she can laugh all she wants
in her empty cave,

but wait until
big boss
hears
about his daughter's
sticky sweaty
hairy lips
ho ho ho.