viscous

 

I wrote a funny vampire type story I called
Count Suckula
I had in it little cartoonish pictures I'd
with a tweezers and toothpicks, drawn
I made blood all over
really red ink
when I was once named married
I didn't make good money enough for a job
the bank had a Mr. Pruitt give me a little of his time
and his trouble
called me in
dusty heat issued through venetian blind slats
a semi cough air conditioner
asked me what I did
told I imagined I taught school
bands of the little troublemakers in dim rows
I was almost going to cluck to him about
Count Suckula as if that were my saving
he said my fiscal health was in a sea of red ink
Count Suckula appeared in a door frame seemingly respectable
except the bored assembled could not see him for the
wolverine serpent he was
would you do come in good sir
you'll catch your death
the visitor merely grinned
and there was no warmth in it
only the smallest last trace of blood
from dripping canines