As Long as She's a Bitch! by Robert Scott Leyse

As Long as She's a Bitch!

by Robert Scott Leyse

I'm not over finicky, am easy to please –
Capable of falling for a wide range of tease.
Only one condition I count, one little hitch:
A girl's got to be a strife sowing bitch!

Don't care if a girl's a star at debutant balls;
Or if she works at greasy eateries in malls –
Don't care if she's skilled at social one upsmanship;
Or prefers isolation, being outcast hip:
All social caste – from the gutter to filthy rich –
Is fine, as long as she's a scheming bitch!

Don't care if a girl's plundered a lingerie shop;
Or if she's a rosy-cheek fresh from the sock hop –
Don't care if she's into Catholic schoolgirl plaid;
Or a biker tough who likes to look dirty, bad:
All fashion's acceptable, any style of stitch,
As long as she's a tantrum tossing bitch!

Don't care if a girl's a nymphomaniac slut;
Or if she needs to be courted, plead with to rut –
Don't care if she's bedded two dozen baseball teams;
Or if no man's ever explored inside her seams:
I'll take maid or whore, any experience niche,
As long as she's a fight fomenting bitch!

Don't care if a girl's into rubber bondage kink;
Or if she's fond of coupling on a skating rink –
Don't care if she must be wearing 'luminum foil;
Or if I've got to dress as Tiller of the Soil:
I'll embrace any fetish, all means to bewitch,
As long as she's an unrepentant bitch!

Don't care if a girl's mouth ceaselessly runs riot;
Or if she barely breathes a word, is always quiet –
Don't care if she often speaks of Christianity;
Or if her vocabulary's half profanity:
Any subject matter, all forms of vocal pitch,
As long as she's a discontented bitch!

Call it magnetism or addiction –
Call it an emotional affliction;
Or the utter death of rational thought,
Willful disregard of all I've been taught:
I simply don't combust with peaceful girls –
Have little use for the Sunny-As-Pearls!
Yes, give me a wildcat or fitch:
There's nothing like bedding a bitch!

What's the explanation? I'm not masochistic;
It's simply that, for me, friction's alchemistic –
A means of engaging inner unrest,
Resolving self-conflict, emerging blest:
Nice girls are unable to dredge my deeps,
Exorcize the things that give me the creeps;
But a malevolent bitch – my oh my! –
Engages those things, routs them, bids them fly!
I'm in heaven – consider myself rich –
Only when being renewed by a bitch!

Nice girls are a being struck with blindness,
Submission to slow killing with kindness.
That's right, nice girls are the gravedigger's ditch!
So I'll retain clarity with a bitch –
I'll remain alive and thrive with a bitch!
Any female, as long as she's a bitch!

[4/17/03 – Passover]

__________

Robert Scott Leyse was born in San Francisco, grew up in various locales about America, lived in Paris for a spell, and now resides on Manhattan's Upper East Side. Upon arrival in Manhattan he lived in several East Village dumps and worked as a New York cab driver on the night shift, with the aim of atoning for a sheltered upbringing and having adventures the likes of which he'd never had before and he wasn't disappointed; subsequently he acquired over a dozen years of experience in the legal field, where he was pleasantly surprised to find that additional adventures, of the office politics and shenanigans variety, were to be had; presently he works in the advertising field, where he's not looking for any special adventures, having decided to keep work separate from fun and games and have secrets that are easier to keep. He skis in Sun Valley, Idaho, surfs with board and body in southern California and Puerto Rico, once took a belly dance class in Green Bay, Wisconsin, and the most incandescent yoga class he’s ever had was on a stand-up paddle board in Condado Lagoon during a furious rainstorm. He eats fish heads and insects and drinks blood, but can’t be paid to eat potato chips or cake.

His three novels are: Liaisons for Laughs: Angie & Ella’s Summer of Delirium (July, 2009), Self-Murder (April, 2010), and Attraction and Repulsion (June, 2011). His two novellas are Penelope Prim and Tallulah Tempest (both February, 2015). The latter was originally intended to be a send-up of volatile relationships but turned out to be an appreciation and celebration of them instead: sometimes a tale decides where it wishes to go, the author be damned. Forthcoming are collections of short stories, epigrams, and more novellas.