Within the flames are spirits*

Within the flames are spirits*
(*canto xxvl, line 50, The Inferno of Dante)

I remember what the 60's were before things began
To change reverberations of a jukebox

Between my legs poems pulsing in my head like
Smoky suffering false patterns of Carnaby street

Fashions worn everywhere as the easy-influenced men
Sported Nehru jackets into bars where I would hang-out

At first innocent the girl-next-door
Looking like a virgin until I learned to smoke

Then waiting like some predator trying to look sexy
Sullen dangerous done up in shiny smooth leather

Common and easy but cunning as any Cleopatra
Lighting up cig after cig making it with

Intoxicatingly eager boys or men as whiskers tickled
My ear while tobacco speckled lips made prints

Of fire down my neck to aroused nipples
Allowing them to continue their moaning about

"How hot I was - how turned on they were" and I could
Feel their burning so that we couldn't wait

Rearing like wild horses from stale sheets never
Laundered filled with sweat screaming

Nicotine addicted nights watching us both as if
I was a magician's girl observing our act knowing the secret

And when they were spent discarded like
Crushed butts still glowing thick painted with my

Lipstick where every flame enfolds me with
A forlorn trust that burns I remove a cigarette from

The pack holding it by the tip savoring the sex
That brings out the taste of illicitness planting

It wantonly in my mouth even now defying prohibition
Hoping for the groovy tunes to fire me up again.