Suzy wants a foreign nanny.
Suzy wants a private school.
Where they teach good manners and big
business and the golden rule.
Suzy wants a tennis camp, with
horses and a swimming pool.
All alone in blackness, Suzy
risks a little vertigo.
Pressed against the glass, she hears the
traffic moving far below.
Silent ballerina in the
office of the CEO.
SUZY FOLLOWS HER FEET
Money 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 cars.
Some dumb merchant sold his holdings
all to buy one pricey pearl?
Suzy stays diversified, 'cause
Suzy's not that kind of girl.
Suzy tries to keep herself from
puking on the Tilt-A-Whirl.
"Step right up!" cries out one barker
from his sneaky ring-toss game.
Suzy pays, and plays, and misses
(gets a bunny all the same).
Suddenly she's on the Cyclone—
all she did was ask his name.
"Holy, holy," "God of power,"
"with our lips, but in our lives."
Suzy's engine's overheating—
it's enough to give her hives.
In the font she spys cool water.
Suzy takes a breath and dives.
Surfacing in Judah's Jordan,
seeing Baptist, seeing bird,
Suzy asks the man who's dripping
whose it was, that voice she heard.
Suzy wants to dwell among this—
she can be the flesh made word.
SUZY SAVORS PARISH LIFE
Suzy likes to read the Bible.
Suzy likes to smell its smell,
warm, spread-eagled there before her,
casting its unearthly spell.
Sometimes she pretends she's shut up
in her own monastic cell.
Suzy goes to church on Sundays.
Suzy goes to Evening Prayer.
Suzy goes to Bible study,
since the cute new rector's there.
(Suzy wants to press the vestments,
then decide what he should wear.)
Suzy'd like to hold the chalice.
Suzy'd like to pour the wine.
Suzy'd like to try a solo
antiphon (it's just one line).
Harry called her singing t
one-deaf.
Suzy's singing is just fine.
Suzy wants to give a sermon,
mount and frame the parish quilt,
buy the wafers, clean the silver,
change the flowers when they wilt.
Suzy's going to be the biggest
pledger since St. Jude's was built.
Suzy wants to scrub the altar,
be there when the bread arrives,
help to push the boulder from the
doorway when our Lord revives.
Suzy likes the priests she's met. She
likes their husbands, likes their wives.
Life is back to normal somehow.
Suzy, safely in the flock,
thinks at thinking speed again and
sometimes sleeps around the clock.
Using towels and candlesticks, she
christens houseplants in her wok.
Suzy's been at church a month now,
shunning evil, doing good.
Suzy's looking up a passage
no one's ever understood.
Suzy loves not just her neighbors,
but the whole damn neighborhood.
SUZY PONDERS
Suzy used to feast on Sunday—
frosted flakes with milk, and toast,
juice and jam and steaming coffee,
then, pre-lunch, the wine and host.
Now, instead, she deeply tries to
teleport the Holy Ghost.
Suzy hears the organ starting,
shifts to sitting from her knees,
looks at all the pretty flowers,
wills a steady, cooling breeze.
(Last week Suzy tried the first row,
but the incense made her sneeze.)
Now Episcopalian, Suzy's
figured out what Jesus means:
buy a field and sow some seeds, rip
up the weeds, and eat your greens.
What does that new rector look like,
dressing up behind the scenes?
Suzy's ready for a mission.
This time Suzy won't go wrong.
Prospect Park was cold and dark, but
now she's better, calm and strong.
Still, she isn't great at waiting.
Hey, how long, O Lord, how long?
Suzy wants to grip life's passion.
Suzy wants to fight life's fight.
Suzy says to hell with fashion.
Suzy says to hell with fright.
Suzy says to hell with darkness—
Suzy says turn on the light.
Suzy hears the final reading
(how small is a mustard seed?),
pictures God as those beside her
stand and sing, and sit and read.
Suzy's dancing to the hymnal.
She's supposed to let Him lead?
SUZY PLEADS
Suzy, willing, waiting, isn't
liking what she's getting dealt.
God wants Suzy Zeus to cry, but
Suzy's not about to melt.
Wishes she could choke Him with the
rector's fancy bell-pull belt.
Suzy's feeling mighty lonesome.
Like a planet. Like a nun.
Like a hermit in his cabin.
Like a bad guy on the run.
Is it wrong if, now and then, she'd
like to have a little fun?
Suzy's feeling mighty timid.
Suzy's feeling mighty tense.
Suzy Zeus is mad, as ever,
that religion makes no sense.
Suzy's getting total silence
when she prays, or worse, repents.
Gazing at the congregation,
Suzy feels the men so near.
Half have muscles on their muscles.
So—invite them for a beer?
Half the congregation's gorgeous.
More than seven-eighths are queer.
Suzy gives to charities and
keeps their thank-yous on her shelf.
Suzy's been a sidewalk Santa,
raising funds—without an elf.
Suzy's done her part. Please note: she's
sick of being by herself.
Suzy thinks about the rector—
and that quiet deacon, too.
One is married, one's a homo.
What's a single girl to do?
Somewhere someone's there for Suzy.
God is gone, so tell her who.
SUZY PLUMMETS
Suzy wants to kiss the rector,
wants to lure him to her bed,
take him in the apse at night, or
in the aisle in church instead.
If God knew of Suzy's visions,
Suzy would be stricken dead.
Suzy sat and watched the Reverend
at her seventh Welcome Tea.
For a Father, Father Robert
was as hot as hot could be.
Now she hugs a sofa pillow.
Did he wonder? Could he see?
Robert does a lot of writing.
Robert knows a lot of art.
Once an Ivy League professor,
Robert is extremely smart.
Suzy's more than primed to give the
man her sacred bleeding heart.
Suzy Zeus has followed Robert
upstairs, downstairs, through the church.
He's so goddamn charismatic
he could end her guy research.
Suzy wonders what she looks like
from his lofty pulpit perch.
Suzy Zeus is cracking open,
tipping over, pouring out.
Suzy Zeus is spilling sideways,
falling faithward, dripping doubt.
Wants a little information—
like, to know what life's about.
Robert's gone to Massachusetts
in a sporty little car,
where, he says, there's only ocean
and a big ol' VCR.
Says he plans to rent some movies
then go biking wide and far.
Suzy Zeus, though left behind, is
trying hard to act adult:
not to grouse and not to gossip,
not to judge, condemn, insult.
Not to let herself start thinking
that St. Jude's is just a cult.
Suzy wants to wash his linens,
wants to hang out on his stoop.
Suzy wants to slash the tires
of his jazzy little coupe.
Suzy needs this priestly absence
as a moment to regroup.
SUZY TRIES NOT TO KICK HIM
Suzy Zeus could break his monstrance.
Suzy Zeus could burn his books.
Suzy may try veritas, and
soon—before she's lost her lux.
Suzy wants to bop him with his
secret practice bishop's crooks.
Suzy had a lunch of pasta
with the pastor of her dreams.
Suzy sat there silent, desperate—
counting floor tiles, waiters, beams.
Could he see her rigid posture?
Could he hear her inner screams?
Suzy wants to tell the preacher.
Suzy wants to take his arm.
Wants to make the congregation
raise its eyebrows in alarm.
Needs to come to (all) her senses—
not to hate him, not to harm.
Suzy Zeus, O perfect pinup!
Suzy Zeus, O perfect sphere!
Suzy Zeus, supremely sphygmic—
rhythm of my inner ear!
Suzy Zeus, so coeternal,
coincide and coinhere!
SUZY TRIES NOT TO CARE
Sometimes Suzy thinks that Robert
may be just a genius jerk.
Sometimes she could smash the windows
of his bonny Village kirk.
Face it—praying can't affect things,
and the
Bible doesn't work.
Suzy's going to read the Tarot.
Suzy's going to cast the Ching.
Going to use the constellations.
Going to figure yan and ying.
Try out dream interpretation—
just like Martin Luther King.
Suzy wants a year of tangos.
Suzy wants a year of Scotch.
Suzy's going to speak, not listen.
Suzy's going to play, not watch.
Quite the eager beaver, Suzy's
back to bedposts she can notch.
Down at Louie's, Suzy needs a
skirt that gets her better tips.
For her birthday, give her leather—
something where the front unzips.
If she gets a telegram, it
better be a guy who strips.
CHAPTER 6
Suzy in Love
SUZY MEETS A GUY
Last week, at a parish meeting,
Suzy saw a stunning sight:
someone with a brace of cheekbones
higher than a flying kite.
William spoke, and made it clear, on
top of that, that he was bright.
Bill knows port, and Bill knows starboard.
Bill knows booms, and ropes, and crews.
Bill can change his tack mid-harbor.
Bill knows all the microbrews.
Bill would like to take her sailing.
Bill begins to call her "Suze."
Bearded, tall, as thin as Jesus,
wowed by Christianity,
Bill has learned to work on water.
Bill gives Suzy rides for free.
Bill is into contemplation.
Suze prefers activity.
SUZY MAKES A DATE
Suzy Zeus is filling ketchups,
thinking that it's very Zen.
Killing time and killing roaches,
counting money, counting men.
Suzy wants to kiss and cuddle.
Suzy stops to wonder when.
Suzy's thinking back to Harry.
Looking forward to her date.
Will she get off work by "nine-ish"?
Will they keep her there too late?
Bill says call him, hey, whatever.
William's from the Lone Star state.
William's studied Being, Presence,
won't eat meat or wear real fur.
He's read Kant, a little Kafka.
Suzy thinks he's real mature.
Suzy wants to bear him presents:
Suzy Zeus Gets Organized Page 3