Suzy Zeus Gets Organized Read Free Page B

changing hands is evil.
    Plastic's out, in any form.
    Suzy knows to shed her jacket.
    She can tell the evening's warm.
    Suzy senses God among her.
    Suzy smells the coming storm.
    Suzy's stepping through the mirror,
    stepping through a foreign land,
    stepping through the grace of God, her
    sandals in a stranger's hand.
    Suzy rides another's power.
    Nothing Suzy does is planned.
    Suzy doesn't need direction.
    Suzy uses dogs and trees.
    Suzy's sensed a true connection
    since she set aside her keys.
    (Suzy put them in the clover,
    careful signals to the bees.)
    Suzy passes pickup soccer,
    watches boys in cutoff jeans.
    Corner kick—they're in formation,
    information in the scenes.
    Suzy sees it all so clearly.
    Suzy wonders what it means.
    Suzy climbs to reach the forest,
    pinnacle of Prospect Park.
    In the woods she stands and watches
    as the borough swings to dark.
    Sunset's when the devil beckons—
    she can see him in the bark.
    SUZY FOLLOWS HER FEET FARTHER
     
    Suzy grips a sycamore, awaiting
    death, awaiting birth.
    Hours. Waiting. Needs the sign to
    show her value, prove her worth.
    Suzy goes where Suzy's sent, to
    do her job, to save the Earth.
    Suzy Zeus is Agent Orange.
    Suzy is an ammo round.
    She's an AK-47 and its clacking, cracking sound.
    Suzy is a combat unit.
    Suzy is a battleground.
    Suzy hosts a host of fighters,
    demons some, some seraphim.
    Suzy holds the broken pieces—
    here a torso, there a limb.
    Look for Suzy in the trenches.
    Seek her where the light is dim.
    Outside, Suzy's wild and wired.
    Inside, Suzy's loud and loose.
    Strangely, Suzy's never tired,
    living now to be of use.
    God has chosen certain people.
    God is choosing Suzy Zeus.
    Suzy's creeping. Night is sleeping,
    dank and dark and stark and still.
    Evil comes in many forms. She
    wonders if she'll have to kill.
    On the drive. A siren. Screaming
    brakes—and racing down the hill.
    SUZY FOLLOWS HER FEET
     
    EVEN FARTHER
     
    Three A.M. in deepest Brooklyn.
    Shiny limos line the street.
    Inside leather, silk, and spandex,
    chains and lace and wine and heat.
    Suzy's moving to the dance floor.
    Suzy's moving to the beat.
    Suzy slinks and Suzy gyrates.
    See the sweat pour down her face.
    Other dancers turn to watch her,
    stop, and clap, and give her space.
    Suzy, dance to save the moment—
    dance to save the human race.
    In the attic, after Flipper,
    Barbie had to pay the price.
    Skipper and the others watching,
    Suzy chanted, rolled some dice,
    stripped the virgin, struck the match, sat
    back and made the sacrifice.
    Barbie's hair was singed and smelly.
    Barbie. What a stupid name.
    Keith found Suzy in the crawl space,
    told her there that if she came
    out with him he'd give her gum. He
    needed her to play the game.
    Keith brought Suzy down the alley,
    down behind the railroad grade,
    down to where their sister, Sally,
    waited in the birches. They'd
    brought some string and scissors. Sally
    told her not to be afraid.
    Suzy doesn't wear a beeper.
    Suzy's given up the phone.
    Suzy bumps and Suzy shimmies.
    Watch her muscles.
    Hear her moan.
    Suzy dances in the leaf mold.
    Suzy dances all alone.

CHAPTER 5
Suzy Gets Religion
     

SUZY SLEEPS
     
    Suzy's sleeping on the subway.
    Suzy's sleeping on the 3.
    Suzy's feeling like a wreck, a
    bouncing check, a refugee.
    Suzy needs a place to pray in.
    Suzy needs a place to pee.
    If you want a date with Suzy,
    pin a carcass in your hair.
    Wear a shark cage if you plan on
    asking Suzy to the fair.
    Suzy changes trains at Chambers,
    since another train is there.
    SUZY FOLLOWS HER FEET
     
    INTO ST. JUDE'S
     
    Hip-hop hymns are pounding madly.
    Smell the smoke and feel the heat.
    Candles glow and silver glistens.
    Listen to that crazy beat.
    Coney Island's now expanded
    all the way to Hudson Street?
    Look, it's Nathan's! In the narthex,
    two-head fetuses in jars.
    Down the aisle there comes a freak show—
    someone's grilling rocks from Mars.
    In her pew she wonders whether
    all pews feel like bumper