Heaven on the 7th Floor

by Patricia Ace

Exiles from the violence in Jamaica,
they were looking for good times
and laughter, so making eyes
to the Bee Gees on the dancefloor
soon led to secret mid-week trysts.

Jenny and Footy, cruising the lanes
of the Trans-Canada Highway
in his blacked-out Cadillac,
booking in at different Ramada Inns,
but always a room on the 7th floor,

where they popped the cork
on a magnum of Dom, feasted on
oysters and porn. Playing the song
by The Mighty Pope, they danced
till they dropped into bed

where Footy made up for his lack
of looks with his skilled expertise
and outré stories: how Joan Collins
clamped ice on his balls at climax;
his shady job for the local Mob

selling ‘bicycles to Haiti’. And when
Jenny’s husband, on a surprise trip
from Jamaica, couldn’t locate his wife
at home, he kicked down the door
of Footy’s crib, found them sharing

the black silk pyjamas, sewn with gold
bumble bees, her wearing the top
and him sporting the bottoms. So
Footy phoned Chavulo, the five-time
Canadian heavyweight champion

who was nicknamed ‘Boom Boom’,
who Ali had called a tough guy,
and Chavulo escorted Jenny back
to the luxury apartment in Etobicoke
she couldn’t afford to furnish.

 

This poem is named after Paul Nicholas’s 1977 hit, also covered by The Mighty Pope.