Poor Trochi

poor Trochi
poor Mimi Trochi
she is   probably the handsomest woman I have seen
and young too, still young,
she keeps running into traps,
twice in the madhouse,
married, shacked and deserted
beyond count
mostly by homosexuals and bi-sexuals,
she knows I am one of those rare old-fashioned straights
and she comes to me for strength
but all I give her are my hard-ons and hot kisses,
and we are always interrupted by lightning and chance
and luck–
her lover or my love,
to be a lover is to be loved,
but Poor Trochi and I never seem to get beyond the
hot kisses,
and I am usually luckier that way,
and she certainly must be–if you want to call it luck–
all these babies,
and then the big decision:
abortion or birth?   which is the crime?
but the crime is that always the guy who did it
vanishes,
Trochi has   met the greatest vanishers of all time,
and for one of the handsomest women on earth
this could be a puzzle
especially since she has a mind and a soul also,
Trochi simply chooses wrong,
actually she chooses indifference to begin with;
she believes   indifference is strength
when it’s only a family flaw in her upbringing.
I have suffered right along with Mimi Trochi
although I have never stuck it into her
she keeps coming back
with stories and sobs
while looking more handsome than ever.
we don’t even kiss anymore,
all those hot kisses are useless:
I am not indifferent enough.
“You had   your chance,” she tells me,
showing me her last baby
live and from a trip from Florida, and sucking
tons of milk.
I don’t know what to do about it
so I phone my girlfriend and say,
“Do come over.   Mimi is here with her latest baby
and we are drinking whiskey to celebrate.”
my girlfriend comes over and picks up the baby and
tortures   it in her loving way
just as she does me,
and then I tell Mimi that we must leave    for dinner,
my girlfriend and I,
and Mimi Trochi says, well, hell, all this traffic
now, it’s 5 in the evening, could I stay a while?
and so we leave handsome Mimi Trochi
there and drive off,
and I don’t worry too much about robbery
because I feel that Mimi does love me in her
sort of way,
and coming back the next morning
I find nothing missing,
there’s only a small phone bill later,
a call to Van Nuys and a call to Pasadena,
hardly anything for a woman in her state,
you know how it usually happens:
a call to New York or Philadelphia
or London or Paris or worse.

I have her phone number written down
and I am going to invite her to my New Year’s party
if she’s still in town
then.
that day we left her at my place
she said she was going over to try to get a job
as a belly dancer
at the Red Fez.   a Turk, she said, owned the Red
Fez and he was giving her some
trouble.

having known Mimi Trochi this long
I was afraid to ask her
what trouble was.