flyin’ saucer blues for terri moon

henry 7. reneau, jr.

my girl woke up ringin’ satan’s bell
actin’ crazy as a tweeker and illin’ like hell

i thought she’d been voodoo vexed
(unwrapped tight and ragin’ nutty-block)

an obeah priestess hoodoo hex

bought her flowers, diamonds, dinner, and pearls
that screamin’ banshee screeched and quarreled
she said jump . . . i asked, “how high?”
any damn thing and shit would fly

that fateful day it all came clear

like the air force blue-book deception ‘bout midnight ufo’s
(what we see ain’t always what’s there)

those alien lights and little green men . . .

you see
eve’s curse wit’ females is the devil’s brew
jus’ mess wit’ a woman gone biological cuckoo
without reason, rhyme or clue
(from a male point of view)

and i’ll be damned if you don’t see
flyin’ saucers too