Four Women

(By Mike Anderson)

That’s her third cigarette since breakfast

Her first glass of scotch painting her mouth

She pulled her dress off over her head and turned around

I don’t do income tax in this part of town

Another bed, another woman, something strange up and down

A spider of a widow in a black silk gown

Came a very dark afternoon

I shared a rooming-house with Mary

I got very sick and she had to work

I’d get down on my knees in the kitchen when alone

Then I’d wipe my face with the towel by the phone

I tried it standing up and I tried it upside down

In the pool by the hoist I hoped she’d drown

I’ll make it out of here next year

She rolled cigarettes in the bathroom

Her letters were sad, I never wrote back

We know God is dead, you’ve told us all before

By the bridge you buried something, I’m not too sure

You never came to see me when I was moved around

Take a blanket to the park, you won’t get found

I see your sorry face all around

She wore rimless glasses in Texas

A job parking cars, I walked my dog

I let her stick around for a month, it’s alright

She’d scratch me in my sleep and shake me at night

Leaned against the fender of a car and lose her breath

Sugar for the ants, her eggshell bones

I prefer to live alone