Bella Bella Bella Bella Bella (Barf Bag Poem #5)

Bella Bella Bella Bella Bella
(BB Poem #5)

Five bella donnas, all under 20, stroll west
out 36th St. Anticipation trumps curiosity when a
living artist invites all five to a SoHo party.
Tangled hair, pink rhinestone belts, bare midriffs,
oddball sneakers, English phrases, heavy accents,
natural odor, quivering thighs, and soulful eyes
make these ladies most welcome guests, even
though the party is three quarters gay. Soon
they tug the artist’s arm, they need directions to
the subway, or how to walk to little Italy. Seems
they’d rather try their chances with touristas or
married men. Married Italian-Americans who
could use a one-nighter to re-ignite the flame
over in Flatbush or out in Egg Harbor. Even
the missus comes to admire the spunk these tarts
show on their tour of New York. She hasn’t had
romps like the one Tony applied on the night after
tagging bella number two, since their nephew’s
wedding, when dozens of beauties donned
bare-skinned creations. Gosh, that was over two
months ago! What happened to the twice daily days,
the pokes in the park, theatre groping, footsie fondles,
buttocks bites, and tongue probes? Well, who cares
now. Tony’s happy, the missus is smiling and telling her
friends about his virility. The artist slinks back to comfort,
knowing the bellas will soon forget September’s orgasms.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2004. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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