Suzy's going to harrow hell.
Suzy's going to write a screenplay.
Suzy's going to learn to spell.
Suzy has forgotten him! The
best revenge is living well.
Suzy, now a strobe light, with her
every second passing strange,
jogs for seven hours straight,
around a late-night driving range.
Watching golf balls arc in darkness,
paths blown wild by winds of change.
Suzy wants to make it formal:
Harry's Most Disgusting Trait.
Makes a total list to choose from—
eighty-six? No, eighty-eight.
Bitterino serves her brunch.
Arranges parsley on the plate.
SUZY BONDS
Bitterino does graffiti—
Bitterino bungee jumps.
Suzy can't get oatmeal smooth, but
Bitterino likes the lumps.
Bitterino's had the measles.
Suzy's only had the mumps.
Bitterino loves the ferry.
Bitterino loves the spray.
Bitterino stands in front and,
as they start, yells "Fuckin' A!"
When they sailed to Staten Island,
Bitterino said she'd pay.
SUZY BOLTS
Suzy Zeus is tense as stemware,
not explosive, just on edge—
needs a ten-foot wall around her,
or at least a ten-foot hedge.
Suzy's straining, teeth to toenails,
easing backward on the ledge.
Suzy wants a Chevy Nova.
Suzy wants an indoor pool.
Wants a town house just like Barbie's.
Suzy Zeus is no one's fool.
Suzy Zeus is no one's plaything,
no one's chattel, no one's tool.
Suzy's going to hit the highway,
find a lake or mountain glen.
Suzy thinks, Who needs a guidebook?
Doesn't every state have men?
She can buy a car on credit.
She can go beyond her Ken.
Suzy needs a long vacation.
Suzy needs to get away.
Suzy isn't liking liking.
Finding there's so much to say.
Suzy finds the difference striking.
Suzy finds it not okay.
CHAPTER 3
Suzy at Large
Donnez-moi your telephone number
Donnez-moi your Sunday afternoons
Donnez-moi a new way of wishing
and a coupon for stainless steel spoons
Donnez-moi a reason to visit
Donnez-moi a reason to stay
Donnez-moi a new way of wishing
and I'll donnez-vous a place in my day
There's a wink in your skin
and the places you go
There's a wild to your neck
I'd like to know— know— know—
Donnez-moi your heaviest sweater
Donnez-moi your highest shelf
Donnez-moi a new way of wishing
And I'll donnez-vous a place in myself
There's a spell in your voice
and a slow in your hair
There's a stretch of your neck
I'd like to wear— wear— wear—
SUZY TRIES THE OPEN ROAD
Suzy is avoiding radar,
breaking limits, passing wrecks.
Suzy Zeus's passing fancy
is to meet a guy named Tex,
drive like hell on long straight highways,
stop five times a day for sex.
Suzy stretches, rolls her shoulders—
breathing deep, surveys the scene.
Suzy eats a biscuit breakfast
at a place called Brendalene.
Suzy loves amazing Graceland.
Suzy thinks the King is keen.
Deep in Memphis Suzy meets an
actor with a little pot.
Suzy's missed his Elvis, but he
tells her that "upstairs they got
fifteen minutes of vibrations—
just two quarters in the slot."
Suzy strolls through old New Orleans—
breezy jazz and moonlit views.
Someone says he'll show her heaven.
What on earth's she got to lose?
Every block a new adventure.
Every street another muse.
At a truck stop several drivers
let her know she drives real well.
"Want to park an eighteen-wheeler?"
asks a cute one. What the hell?
Lets the guy explore her caverns.
Lets him ring her Taco Bell.
SUZY LIKES THE OPEN ROAD
Suzy's passing through where Papa
lived when he was just a pup.
Stops for pie, and maybe coffee—
sure, she'll have another cup.
Suzy's speeding where the roadkill
comes with armor and rolls up.
Suzy traps a small familiar.
Maybe it's a great horned toad.
Chants through Kokonino County,
beds where once a river flowed.
Suzy, sacred, watches out for
miracles along the road.
At Four Corners, can she do it?
What she's always yearned to do?
All four limbs in different states? She
asks the forest ranger, Lou.
When they're done, she needs a shower.
Needs another T-shirt, too.
Suzy made a mad hegira,
took a chance, indulged a whim,
slept in Truth or Consequences,
shouted from the canyon's rim.
Harry said he'd show her Vegas.
It's still Vegas—who needs him?
SUZY EXPERIMENTS
Suzy wants a real explosion—
hears L.A. is into size.
Comes across an ad signed "Matthew."
Cannot know unless she tries.
Well, they found me, Suzy thinks. I
guess it pays to advertise.
Suzy drank and took the freeway
south with Matt for sex with Mark.
L.A., late at night, was muggy—
still quite warm but dank and dark.
Suzy thought about the people
sleeping in MacArthur Park.
Mark put on a leather collar.
Matt put on a leather vest.
Both had Suzy lick their pecs to
see who had the smoother chest.
By the morning, Suzy'd guessed that
Matt liked Mark—and Mark, Matt—best.
SUZY SINGS
Suzy leaves the car in Frisco,
by a hydrant in the Haight,
finds a spiffy travel agent,
Gordon's Good-as-Golden Gate.
Gordon has a sale on Europe,
says the fare is really great.
Suzy Zeus may die tomorrow.
Suzy Zeus may die tonight.
Suzy Zeus is taking over.
Suzy Zeus is taking flight.
Suzy's facing down the darkness.
Suzy's never burned so bright.
Suzy clambers uphill, downhill,
under bridge and over trench.
Sings all night beneath the redwoods,
lying on a cedar bench.
Sings a song for Bitterino.
Makes it up, with part in French.
Suzy's mind is branching. Suzy's
thinking at quadruple speed.
Bitterino. Carole King says,
I will follow where you lead.
Donnez-moi is "what I wish for,"
"hope for," "want," or, maybe, "need."
SUZY DOES BERLIN
Suzy Zeus is trying German.
Suzy Zeus is trying hard.
Passing with her sister's passport.
Paying with
a credit card.
Suzy's putting up her hair, and
Suzy's letting down her guard.
Suzy's here to take the sights in.
Suzy's here to just unwind.
Suzy's here to feel her power,
here not just to search, but find.
Suzy's here to try the knockwurst.
Suzy's here to heal the blind.
Suzy drank a yard of Weizen
with a British guy named Paul.
Watched the eerie Fernseh tower
tower o'er the concrete Wall.
(British guys are British guys—if
you've seen one, you've seen them all.)
Suzy met a real live Jerry,
tall and bright-eyed, on a bike
—someone she could maybe care for,
someone she could maybe like—
with a thing for Proust and pastry:
Mee-kai-ELL, but call him Mike.
Mike and Suzy tried a disco,
and a bar, and Sacher torte.
Suzy, as her storm blew madly,
asked the waiter, Any port?
Eating, drinking, being merry—
live it up, 'cause life is short.
(Breathe) Vergangenheitsbeveltigung
(it's best to say it fast):
it's a word from World War II—
to come to terms with someone's past.
Suzy climbed through bombed-out churches.
Even God can't make things last.
Mike says love is work, and worth it.
Suzy knows that love is luck.
Suzy wants to dance and drift, to
flow and flower, not get stuck.
Suzy doesn't want commitment,
doesn't want her life to suck.
SUZY IS A BERLINER
Suzy found a Hindu Buddhist,
lithe and lively, smart and small.
Saw him in Der Rindfleischkeller—
saved him from a barroom brawl.
Kissed her neck for two full hours.
Mendicants. They never call.
Suzy met a troupe of actors—
bored by fame, by raves, by hits.
Maybe Suzy lost her wallet,
maybe Suzy lost her wits.
Anyway, she woke up naked
next to their director, Fritz.
Freitag, in a German Shakespeare,
Suzy shivered in her chains.
Fritz had cast her as the ghost (with
bandages and bloody stains).
Suzy screeched and rolled her eyeballs,
blond and nubile, like most Danes.
In a slapped-together Faustus,
Greed and Lust and Sloth and Pride,
Gluttony, and Wrath, and Envy.
Suzy whispered, writhed, and cried.
Stroking Suzy, front and back, Fritz
shared his plans for suicide.
Shakespeare knew whereof he spoke—like
Hamlet, where the hero dies
after acting nuts all evening . . .
What can you expect from guys?
Suzy needs an exorcism.
Suzy needs some exercise.
Suzy learned a lot of stagecraft.
Suzy even learned to act.
Suzy exercised her talent.
Suzy exercised her tact.
When the troupe ran out of money,
Suzy sighed, kissed Fritz, and packed.
CHAPTER 4
Suzy Back Home
SUZY PLANS
Suzy wants to make a baby.
Suzy can and Suzy will.
Suzy Zeus has had her fun now.
Suzy Zeus has had her fill.
Prick the condom, poke the cap, forgo
the sponge, forget the pill.
Suzy wants a changing table,
wants a playpen, blanket, crib,
booties, rattle, car seat, bottle—
matching high chair, spoon, and bib.
Suzy's had enough of working
and enough of women's lib.
Children hug you when you're chilly.
Plus they're cute and small and sweet.
Then they're good for when you're older.
Suzy likes their hands and feet.
Babies need you. Babies hold you.
Children make your life complete.
Last year Suzy had no warning.
This year Suzy's nice and calm.
This year's babe will be a blossom.
Last year's was a ticking bomb.
Suzy's got the formula—she's
ready now to be a mom.
Suzy needs to find a bouncer.
Suzy writes a classified
asking for a bodybuilder—
no one she's already tried.
Suzy puzzles over names.
Corvette. Pleshette. Ebonix. Clyde.
Sally's kids are Bobby, Sherman,
Cindy, Marcia, Archie, Jan.
All of them are tall and fair,
except for Arch, who's short and tan.
Keith has two. (Or five. But no one's
pinned it on him. No one can.)
Suzy, planning questions, plans on
knitting during interviews.
Come on, baby, be my music.
Come on, baby, be my muse.
Suzy wants an ethnic father
maybe. It's so hard to choose.
SUZY REVIEWS HER FINANCES
Suzy's pacing in her walk-up.
Suzy's going down the drain.
Suzy dreams of debtors' prison,
breaking rocks in ball and chain.
Suzy clenches, hears her mallet's
rhythmic pounding in her brain.
Suzy talked with Visa's cops, who
said she'd more than shot her wad.
Bit the bullet, called up Louie's,
got Joanne, and talked to Todd.
Suzy thought, The eight P.M. shift?
This can't be the will of God.
Maybe God's gone on vacation,
leaving everything to Fate.
What if everything is ruined?
What if He gets back too late?
Maybe she should move to Flushing.
Maybe she should move upstate.
Suzy needs a kid to kidnap.
Suzy needs a bank to rob.
Suzy needs a wealthy lover.
Suzy needs a high-paid job.
Let her win the lottery or
maybe just let loose and sob.
Suzy doesn't have a minute.
Suzy doesn't have a cent.
She would move if only someone
knew where Bitterino went.
Mrs. Tragas shakes her head: the
girlie didn't pay her rent.
SUZY TRIES THE TAO
Suzy's going slowly gaga,
wearing beads and making lists,
reads haiku, epistle, saga,
raises up her eyes and fists,
whispering a secret prayer
in case a god of God exists.
Suzy's going to shun samsara.
Suzy's going to give up sex.
Suzy's going to wear a sheet and
dance on Forty-third and Lex.
Suzy likes those guys with crosses
tattooed right around their necks.
Tsuzy wants to get enlightened.
Tsuzy wants to pierce her lip.
Tsuzy wants a new Taon jacket—
something holy, something hip.
Jazzed, Lao-Tsuzy meditates to
help her brain waves get a grip.
"Who can sit and watch the silt drift
down until the pond is clear?"
Suzy, groping, tries to downshift,
cannot find a lower gear.
Maybe she should read the paper.
Maybe she should buy some beer.
Suzy wants to be a mystic.
Suzy wants to read your palm.
Even though it's atavistic,
she's anointing folks with balm.
Suzy feels a bit ballistic
even when she's feeling calm.
Suzy walks, in Brooklyn, back and
forth along the Promenade.
On her windy roof she sings. The
neighbors act like Suzy's odd.
Suzy's whole and Suzy's wholesome.
Suzy Zeus is helping God.
Suzy's brain is spinning, sparking,
making meaning, waging war.
Tastes are mad explosions. Smells have
never smelled like this before.
Suzy's hot
then cold
then hotter.
Please don't seat her near the door.
Max-a-million Zeus-Rodriguez.
Lucy. Desi. Ricky. Kate.
No one's writing. No one's phoning.
Why is there no ready mate?
Suzy's full of grace, and blessèd.
It's so hard to knit and wait.
Suzy's actions act like arrows.
Suzy's speech is like a spear.
Suzy Zeus has saddened sadness.
Suzy Zeus has frightened fear.
Suzy's never been so happy.
Suzy's never been so clear.
Suzy's howling at her litter,
separating white from black,
separating good from evil,
separating from the pack.
Suzy Zeus is right on target.
Suzy Zeus is right on track.
SUZY TRIES THE DOW
Suzy Zeus has plucked her eyebrows.
Suzy Zeus has picked a goal.
Suzy has a new persona.
Sees life steady, sees it whole.
Suzy's going to get connected.
Suzy's going to get control.
Suzy smiles a ten-buck smile and
runs her finger down the list.
"Mr. Milken's here," she says, then,
"Have a seat." She flicks her wrist.
Finally, she's economic.
Suzy, Temp Receptionist.
Suzy wants a leather briefcase.
Suzy wants a silk-back vest.
Suzy doesn't need credentials,
but she'll get them, if it's best.
Suzy wants a window office.
Suzy wants her trousers pressed.
Suzy wants to buy a co-op,
put big art up on the wall.
Suzy wants to give some parties.
Suzy wants to give her all.
Suzy wants to be consulted.
Suzy's feeling ten feet tall.
Suzy Zeus Gets Organized Page 2