I Met A Pimp Today | by Tomasz Wiszniewski

I met a pimp today in Atlanta
by a broken train
flanked on either side
by creamy butterflies
pale and dark in equal measure
carrying his soul
fairies in another life
dressed in fishnet wings
adorned in opal stores
some call them thot
I think them acrobats
of love and other things
that bump a lot
switchboards for libido’s
cudgelling gust, turbulent
winds that need tending
glistening hideous human thrust
the pimp’s flies spoke
and dazzled me with tongues
that felt too pure to doubt
scared me numb, guts spilled
but thrilled to death
all in the same breath
giving me fresh supple
nervous laughter I had
been sorely lacking
ejaculating words of wonder
“Where did you come from?”
frenzied scalping thunder
like I just discovered America



Tomasz Wiszniewski is a writer from Ontario whose parents immigrated here after meeting in Athens. He primarily writes poetry and speculative fiction, with a sharp interest in the surreal, the fringe, the macabre, the corners of space and time that have been criminally swept under the rug.