Queen Bessie 👑

Queen Bessie 👑

Alone
Wrapped in a thermal blanket of despair fingers knotted like a rusted bench vice in some drunken Mechanic’s shop

A Real tar baby.
Getting her fixes popping more loaded balloons than a New York clown on crack.
PoP PoP PoP
Another then another
Then another

She may be Thick and
Full of shade but you could Still make out each leathered scar that built up on Her like a thick wall of papier-mâché

Most called her Queenie, some Queen Bee, night after night coming ’round for her honey and More. She got it All. A regular three ring circus of tricks and treats. Someone usually smiles a rotted grill tooth grin and winks “if you Know what I Mean” they’d wheeeeze… coughing up phlegm and lung

She Kept up a Fine House.
During the day, half put together, armed to the teeth in bleach and elbow grease. She could clean a kitchen spit shine a shitter, ain’t no one better at what Aunt Bessie does not No One!

When the sun drops and the moon come out to play and all them street Boyz wanna Dance … That’s when Miss Bessie shines most BRIGHT! She all Electric She Full of moves She still teaching dem’s old Dogs New tricks ‘nd when to come round for chow

Live or die,
some fools never come back up for air, all limp with a smile and another “go on git him on outta here ‘for someone sees that shit”, while counting the crumbled fist full of green Benjamins for some chumps final Kick

Neon sign buzzzz
Was the red carpet rolled out for many o’ men that just called themselves John. We never asked no questions and thought how unimaginative all these local jokers parents must’ve been namin’ all dem kids the same like that.

Miss Bessie was a self mad Jeckle and Hyde. By mornin’ workin’ cleanin’ house off the corner of Jefferson and Genesee. By night she be all Naked, confident a regular Cleopatra of the den. Holding on to her ol’ python she dun had for years now, become part of the show, added a little extra “Spook” to the fest. And Boy she was Thirsty, she could drink All them Boyz Up (in a single gulp if need be) ‘nd have room for More like it be nuthin’ but s thang.

Winter nights got So damn Cold on them Buffalo streets in ol’ New York State… Aunt Bessie never needed No “Real” sign to lure the dumber of the sexes in. She got it All right there and the word of mouth travels as far as far can be

Doctors Lawyers Dentists Drug Dealers and virgin school kids alike All wanted a piece of Her pie. Some said it was made of  VooDoo magic, the way her wetness caught the light all hypnotizing, tastin’ like Jerk chicken and Jambalaya. All sprawled out, bits nd pieces all freely exposed on her overstuffed comfy couch,she delivered what both men and boys alike were a Kravin’

One by one, Two by two
Fuck sometimes three by four  Bessie would knock em All out of the Ball Park, no worse for the wear

All Slick and Thick
like bathing in a vat o’ Vaseline. She knew they were down for the count, adios amigos for the rest of the night and more than likely, into the better part of the Next day as well.

She once told me about the thought of lockin’ up her Shoppe.
Closin’ the Thick Brown doors of Her Inn. Maybe calling out one last final night and then moving on back to Louisiana, ‘nd get back to her voodoo rootwork all Ms Marie Laveaux practitioning style, sometimes the dead make better conversation than those that insist that they’re alive.

Somehow I never think that them dreams took. She be up all late at night sometimes… lying back, looking on up to the ceiling, watchin’ that dang ol’ fan spin round nd’ round. She be mindlessly fondling some old grey man’s flaccid member. Not particularly conscious of raising it to the fullness of a partial masthead. Things were building up and going down and I just knew, I could feel it in the Buffalo cold in my bones and soul.

If she didn’t go and Blow this muthafucker chubby chaser leadin’ double life piece o’ shit checking his bags, leaving em at the door way, it just might as well Be some other fool that come along payin’ homage to the queen of sexual mysticism formally of New Orleans

One hand with cock the other cocked and loaded she had casually reached behind an ol’ vermillion egyptian cotton pillow brandishing an ice cold Cold Colt 44 Anaconda, Revolver, ready to blow a hole through this shoe’s ugly head…

Someone’s gotta pay the piper at the end of the day, see?

*MB93&Crèst*
       2022