Interchangeable Goddesses

He built my pedistal
in seven days,
seven nights.

He had a God complex, some said.

Used cement swiped from a site
down the street.
Polished my crown with his tongue.

Honeysuckle vines grew from the sky,
circled my breasts, my thighs.
Elvis left the supermarket
to croon Love Me Tender
each night.
No snake appeared, but

my crown toppled off
and the pedistal crumbled,
tossing me hard to ground.

When I whimpered, he shrugged.
Love can be blind, like
the man begging quarters
on Second Street.

My lover stole those quarters
for a train straight to Georgia,
built a pedistal for a woman
with flames in her hair, howard hughes
toenails gripping the cement,
wondering how long she had
before the swift rains came,
dissolving her own goddess gown
into pools of spangles to float
down some other gal's street