a debate between Bootsie the pimp and Misty
in the back of his white Cadillac:
real
not regal
limited viewership
due to a deserted city street
and 4 a.m. starting time
“Your breath could kill a maggot,” Misty yells.
“Your mother’s a whore,” Bootsie shouts back
and then a rejoinder from Misty as brilliant as
Bentzen’s to Quayle in the
1992 Vice Presidential debate
“Fuck you Bootsie. I know men. I’ve been with
hundreds of men and you’re no man.”
the debate won and lost at the same moment
a pyrric victory as the literati say in fancier circles.
Misty’s triumph short lived
as the words spew out of her red lipsticked
mouth that performs tricks on lonely men
Misty’s face explodes as Bootsie’s
hulk of a jackhammer hand hits her face
she drops, as the sportscasters say,
like a ton of bricks.