Some of you may recall that the succubus in this poem first appeared in The Sad Demon. Well....she's baaaaaaack!
The succubus blows her new career as a real estate agent.
She shakes her long shiny black hair and examines a nail as she says,
"These two chowder heads, they fell asleep in their chairs as I was discussing points and inspections,
And well, all of my old instincts just came right back.
"The guy was easy. His head lolled to the side and his bill cap fell to the floor like a white flag.
It made me want to put on jackboots and march through the Arc de Triomphe!
Wouldn't you know, though, his spirit was dull and practical, like something you'd find in a hardware store, if I ever went to those.
"But her! She gave this sexy half-distressed little sigh as I plucked her soul like the pit from a fresh juicy peach!"
The succubus goes all misty.
"What was I thinking, giving that up to pitch real estate?
FIXER-UPPER! NEAR SCHOOLS AND STORES! PRICE REDUCED! NEW CARPET AND TILE! MUST SEE! MOTIVATED SELLER!
How am I supposed to feel good about myself, doing this for a living?
She yawns, then continues.
"I have a friend who was an incubus.
He was a fine dancer, but went mad from entering the dreams of straight women.
Now he spends his time riding city buses and mumbling."
The succubus gets up from her chair and stretches, unfolding her great black wings like a bat's.
Then, sighing lightly, she flips her lit cigarette into the waste basket, where it ignites the discarded Thank You For Not Smoking sign.
"I'm off!" she cries brightly, as grey tendrils begin to curl in the air around her slumped erstwhile clients.
"Sweet dreams," she chirps, and with a wink
She is out the door and gone.