Monday, December 29, 2008

mango park, after dark

wearing your shimmer
just right before your eyelids, velvet green, pantone 377
it's screaming for you to be seen
a go signal, attack! attack!
lipstick stained butt
of your tenth cigarette, pressed against your crooked french tip
a sigh, a puff, a helluva of smoke
as always, a whimsical moment
you can't contained yourself
looking blankly, saturnine, as an unsold magazine
on the forgotten rack, struggling to be keen
since your pressed powder cracked with mud
and, i must say, your cheek stain failed to blush
rancid beer, can no longer be conjured
melted ice---long since gone its power
where is he, who delights you on your sleep
where is he, who suppose to take you out from deep slumber

oh well,
you seems out of luck'

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