...beatnik beauty

I've been reading Women of the Beat Generation which I got for Christmas. It's pretty good. I came across a poem this morning that I thought was quite funny in a grim sort of way. It's by Helen Adam who was apparently sort of an old crone to what would later be the "beat" generation.

Apartment on Twin Peaks
I remember, when the moon shines clear
How I'd whisper in my husband's ear
Like a dentist saying "Open wider"
"Don't you want to be a good provider?"

"Don't you want to be the gracious host
In a lovely home of which you're proud to boast?
When my girl friends come to call
We've got to have carpeting from wall to wall."

After the carpeting he fought and bled
Trapped in the jaws of the Davenport bed!
He screamed as he vanished up the vacuum spout.
In triple-sealed bags it spat him out.

We chased his skull across Twin Peaks stones.
Maud's pet chihuahuas ate the rest of his bones.
  * * *
Another gnawed ghost, another gone man,
Another mild husband in the garbage can
Served up colder than his marriage vows
On his bones let chihuahuas browse.

Geez, Amanda, you're a little freak, aren't you?

[ back to the story ]