Creepin Jeezus

She is the woman with the dirtiest laugh in the world.

From her small hunchbacked body

Crawls forth a cigarette infused cackle

That cracks plaster.

A genuine uprourious laugh

That flaunts vaudeville dressing room seediness

Of trash talk, glitter and pasties

Of hot lights and cheap drinks.

It is a chuckle that would escape

Through the after hours shuttered windows

Of a circus trailer

With bourbon and animals and freaks

Amidst the smell of straw and manure

And cotton candy.

She is the Creepin Jeezus.

“Creepin Jeezus” she would say

As she huffed on a filterless.

For a small woman

She commanded a lot of respect.

Her clothes were thriftstore

Or hand me down

And ill fitting and careless

Like she could really give a shit.

And it was very apparent she didn’t

Unless it was your opinion about something.

She was old and wrinkled

And put on make up

A little too much.

I mean pink cheeks.

Like a clown.

Her hair was thin

But coiffed into a high threshold

That wasn’t possible

Without the aid of aerosoles.

She was the Creepin Jeezus

And she had the dirtiest laugh

In the world.

I spent a lot of time with her

Listening to her stories

Of vaudeville and the circus

In her home next door.

It was a dusty museum

Of a lifetime

Of someone’s extraordinary existence

On this carousel

That we all take a ride on

Some of us leaning way far out

Trying to snag the brass rings.

I listened to her stories in awe

As she unrepentantanly

Chainsmoked

And hacked

For moments on end

And drank something strong

From the tumbler

That was close by.

She was a stripper early on

With an act that was written about

And clearly documented.

And then she did the trapeze

For many years

Where she met her late husband.

“Bill, that bastid!”

That grip as two hands met

High up in the air

With only a net below

And sawdust...

Had obviously

Never broken

Even after death.

She was the Creepin Jeezus

That had lived a life

Of curiousity

And foreboden.

And as she lit up in front of me

I could tell

That this would be the last time

I would be speaking

To the woman with the dirtiest laugh in the world.

Bill, you bastard.

Here comes the Creepin Jeezus.