The cracked and cobbled sidewalks

Seams grouted with the tears of lust

The Lower East Side alleyways

Radiate a  body-part stench and smoke from

The burn of  bruising relationships

You can hear the echo of emotions

As the footsteps in unison draw near

 

All the freaks  soiled with the germ of love

Haunt bars at night like cavalier sex addicts

Looking through stained glass

Searching for that special one

Formed out of the gutter’s blood

Down on avenue A

Where inside the park

The whispering hoodlums triangulate

 

Aftershocks  before the gentrification project

Old stand-byes open their condemned  cage doors

Punk watering holes in cross section with oiled prison grates

7A and 9B —bars named by cross streets

A palette of gender colors  and drug choices

Men find authentic selves in women

Everyone blends into distraught beauty

Outrage circles back in time corralling bad memories

All gunmetal and diesel stained

Men’s faces as real as tire tracks

Women line up on bar stools

Birds strumming a telephone wire

Asphalt cheeked and bedeviled

There is no fluff or pomp

Accolades rain down like grenades

Sex objects with no power of choice

Music starts like road-kill splatter

Wet Doc Martins trample the dance floor

 

The punk scratching distorted bass line pummels eardrums like a speed bag

The body gallops to the thudding percussion

Torn shirts with hidden tattoos

Collide with platinum women in stilettos

Maidens pulsate and the floor vibrates

Oblong night glasses reflect the moon’s silver tongue

While  dilated obsidian pupils carve out more night

The catatonic lean on the soft waves of early music

As the frenetic scream back at the bar

 

There are no take-home lessons

It all happens here

The awestruck certitude of  animal lust

Rules the shy ones cowering in plastic positions

Until they are assaulted and dragged into the dark

The formula is mixed and the barbaric matchmaker laughs

 

 

The singer growls out the lyrics

A fever pitch resides at ankle level

Music now mounts the voluptuous crowd’s hind quarters

Steam is kicked up from sweat on the dance floor

He licks the sweat from her brow

She pulls his pelvis onto hers

 

…and the lyrics go:

 

— “Bodega girl had a bad case

—of the clap between her legs

—she cried right by her window

—hoping her man would come back”

 

–“rampant rabid syphilis

–rampant rabid syphilis

–rampant rabid syphilis”

 

–“oh how she burned up inside

–with 18 year old jealousy

–her man was in another’s  arms

–her snatch way too forgone”

 

–“rampant rabid syphilis

–rampant rabid syphilis

–rampant rabid syphilis”

The drummer bangs the cymbals with a forceful shiver

The awkward singer bleeds from his lips

Dancers claw onto the stage

Brute bouncers step on hands and keep the crowd submerged

The shapeliest in garters smart as foxes elope to the basement

Where the darkness forges electric steel bondage

The maestros of necrophilia settle for a pulse and warm breasts

 

Electric sparks leave the stage in  metallic spurts

A down-hop bell-bottomed bourbon whore

Bangs the godsmack into barbed-wire slow motion

Dancing off the drug’s  elements in erect smoke rings

As corsets with gunpowder fill-up the push-up bras

The band penetrates into basement speakers

Lighting the way and the lyrics go….

 

—“Ooohhh Bodega girl

—you were everything to me

—The sweetest grape on the vine

—Until love poisoned your rose”

 

—“And Oh Oh On Bodega girl

—How I loved you

—before you were polluted

—now I can’t bear it

—-anymore, anymore, anymore…”

 

–“rampant rabid syphilis

–rampant rabid syphilis

–rampant rabid syphilis”