Mercy Street Contessa (co-write w. bootselectric)

 
As Jonathan laid on the comfortable opium bed in the dark Den
He gazed into the smoke rising from
the lungs of the fellow smokers
Tilting the bowl above the lamp
he inhaled the vapors
and as his exhaled smoke drifted into the air
w/ the aura of the painted chinese dragons
on the walls so barely visible above him
Jon was reminded of sweet Anita Lee
and the last time he saw her...


she never overloads the eyeshadow
or circles her lips more than once with a blushing gloss
she wouldn’t choose a dress that’s too short, too low-cut

she’s a walk in the park on a summer Sunday
a pleasant wine in the perfect café on the Southbank

she browses the library, among the verses of Dickinson
and the Brontes, but she never gave up her crush on Anne Sexton

roses of plaintive hues adorn her Ortiz vases
but the poppy is also a flower

she lays no trap other than the whisper of her subdued beauty
she knows men fall so easily

she is seduction in the drunken moonlight, but never a target
when a man goes in with loaded guns

she’s quicksand; her come-on is thick enough to drown in…


(Artist unknown)