Two girls in pink parkas --
Impregned by polyester --
Recall the Alphabetical Lilith,
Sucking steadily at their cigarettes,
Pausing and forcefully relieving
Their lungs of a fragile smoke.
They’re right under the
“Thank You For Not Smoking” sign,
And look at each other smugly
As they move their mouths –
I can’t hear what they’re saying,
Just the tones of their cackles
With the most prudent manners.
I can see each of them,
Wrestling a Semitic Patriarch,
Impaled on his colored rod,
In her most comfortable suit,
And whining to her native god
With wishniak blush in her face
When she realizes after all the struggle
That she will never pin him down.
The rods in their mouths are just the same,
And the girls will love them passionately,
Until they get around to testing themselves,
And fail to roll the big white man,
In his most comfortable suit,
Taking his advantage of them.
They’ll ask God a few questions,
But by this time, He won’t be in the business
Of nicotine gum or lame theodicy.

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