Pure Slush

flash ... without the wank

cake alligator

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by Stephen House 

 

i’m the cake alligator

in my current form i’m a creepy mess

bow tie, green boots, lilac ribbon around my tail to let them all know

pot habit, cream-cake gorging snappy jaw, long brown teeth and foul breathe

scare away the body lice, make the ice dealers fly to the moon

 

cream cakes are plenty sliding down main street, duck into the cake shop, quick

two dollar slices on special

she doesn’t take the coin, throws cakes at me, on me

buns, lamingtons, donuts, blueberry-cheese, strudel, carrot, coffee-crunch, mud-cake delight layered sponge, icing dripping, danish with fake peach glaze, scones and jam by two

 

customers in caftans and pointy hats watching as i smear cake remains over my tail

scrape fading newspaper clippings and dusty awards from my long gone fame into a pile

with pastry scraps dragged out from behind the counter, while she screams cake murder

 

continue down main street, trumpeting loud

snappy cake-faced coffee drinking alligator has-been whore on the move again, watch me

 

into the café, not a breath as i slide by and flick my tail

and then cheers of here he goes again

a transvestite in lilac, she shrieks

i tell her it’s a fucking ribbon, not a dress

i wore a pink wedding dress yesterday and they all thought i was cruising muscle trade

remind them that the lilac ribbon means more than useless play

fuck, they should know my game by now

chubby bears load me up with long blacks, pull open my jaws and pitch them in

feeding a sleezy reputation to die for

knowing about my sleeping swamp and what goes on all night, i’m not hiding a thing

 

sneak out with full tail sweep

applause from the soap stars and their junkie followers

smash the door down with a high note shriek

snap the crooked cop who runs fast taking aim with his cap gun at a whining poet

peeps cross the path with faces in i-phones as i gallop back to the swamp

free-loader musician on my back for the ride, strumming away on my neck

bank tellers and actors and checkout chicks and rent-boys look away

hope and fear that the cake alligator’s chant might suck them all in, again

might show them that a slutty alligator sniffing poppers

with a pretty new lizard who he hooked up with via a gay phone app

in his den of whatever goes is not something to turn a nose up at

serious stuff chaps

 

keep away or he’ll drag you in to his muddy hell, the ballerina sings outside of my swamp

but pats my jaw with love

fuck, get a life sister

i snap her and she twirls as i slide into my watery jungle

stop, i need cake

look

smiling alligator approaching with turquoise ribbon and trolley full of kitchener buns

i’m reminded of fading dreams

so i whistle him over for more and more

 

he’s hot, and has cake, cream buns

whatever

this is awesome

about time too

 

published 20 September 2016