Single White Succubus

(The succubus has fans. More succubus poems they say. Okie dokie artichokees!)

The succubus stops at Danny's coffee shop in the cool oyster morning.

Some guy is waving his arms and pontificating.

"When I was on 20/20..." he drones.

I'll send my mad friend the incubus to that guy's house tonight, she thinks, wrapping her beautiful fingers around a chipped mug filled with steaming tea.

The succubus is a working girl,

All night she enters the minds of sleepers wrapped up in their blankets like little human burritos.

Some of them sleep in pairs, as if they were earrings set on a dresser.

Just because I'm a succubus, she thinks,

Doesn't mean I wouldn't like to be asked out on a Saturday night.

Sometimes the most beautiful girls end up watching tv

In their bath robes

With a clicker, not a lover, at hand.

As if I would steal a date's spirit, she argues indignantly with a sugar packet.

Work is work, and love is love, and that's that.

She sighs.

I'm just tired, she tells herself.

She gazes out the window.

I'm really quite sweet, I think. Given a chance.

There is a businesswoman passing by the newspaper machines in front of Danny's.

She is chattering importantly on a cell phone,

Holding it the way peasants once held icons.

The guy in the booth behind her is still holding forth.

"When I was on The View..."

The succubus purses her lips and her eyes go as dark as bibles.

The businesswoman makes a face and stops dead in her tracks, looking at her cell phone as if it had just turned into a dog turd.

The man behind the succubus curses sharply.

Somehow, his hot coffee has been upset onto his big fat lap, interrupting his story about Good Morning America.

Well, darn.

Two women sitting together in the back start laughing.

The succubus feels appreciated.

It may not be such a bad day after all.

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