SUITE OF CHAINS
Anna Drinking sits three tables to the east of the blue moon in the early lies of the Ponzi century at Crazy’s Place when Joseph’s Son walks into the joint ten minutes and a single bullet from closing out his tab.
She is drinking vodka with a side of nothing to lose waiting on a humiliation scene a tricking friend of hers is willing to share easy afternoon twenties on and the later heroin.
He antes up a compliment on her toenails painted purple and she raises him a hither mouth.
Folsom Prison Blues comes on the jukebox and Johnny Cash is singing:
I bet there’s rich folks eatin’,
In a fancy dining car,
They’re probably drinkin’ coffee,
And smokin’ big cigars,
But I know I had it comin’,
I know I can’t be free,
But those people keep a-movin’,
And that’s what tortures me
Joseph’s Son says Anna Drinking saves his life that minute but he always mispronounces it minuet and never tells her.
One dance bleeds into another and that’s how it starts.
Years and jail terms later, they crash into each other again on a Tuesday three out of the same black.
After happy hour gunshots, he is looking down her shirt and she is looking down his pants.
“Wanna?” she says.
“Bet,” he says.
He buys the pair of them a comfort room at the nearest suite of chains.
She showers, wraps herself in a cotton robe, kneels between his legs, and takes him in her mouth.
Anna Drinking’s robe falls to the floor.
What Joseph’s Son remembers best that night is a sonnet of his cum rhyming off her chin.
Wednesday morning and the cops pick her up on a trumped up traffic warrant and she serves 13 months, 21 days and 11 hours before she takes Joseph’s Son in her mouth again.
Somewhere in the world Johnny Cash is singing
Well, if they freed me from this prison,
If that railroad train was mine,
I bet I’d move out over a little,
Farther down the line.