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strange soft ghosts
‘what’s it like there?’ her note is an intrusion into my nefarious shadows,
all the things I don’t want to tell her.
don’t ask, baby, just be glad you’re somewhere else. it’s quiet & lonely
again, after my latest attempt at condomed romance & cheap orgasms.
the whore left me stranded with an empty bottle & a lipstick stained
business card where my cash used to be: ‘for a good time call ___.’
the number’s blurred but it don’t matter, I’ve got it memorized...
there’s a voice in my darkness, & it’s her voice. she comes on sleek &
sophisticated, like she’s only here for the poetry, but I decide she was
never a good girl, so I dig for her dirty secrets. when did you do it the first
time, how old were you, how many men, baby, how many broken hearts?
she spills her sordid past in her own unbreakable woman code, but I
figure out that she’s a juke joint girl in blue eye shadow & cut-off jeans,
14 goin’ on 21, & she learned how to polish a hard-on in the backseat
of a Camaro.
her misty eyes get mean & her voice cracks with a defiant whimper when
she tells me, ‘you don’t know me as well as you think you do, ‘cause it
wasn’t a Camaro!’
we get intimate, & the long hours crash like a runaway train, it’s almost
dawn, I’m sleepy & sad & I shiver like a soldier in the rain, I tell her
hold me, baby, hold me. & she does, she reaches her arms all the way to
my impractical heart & she holds me.
she takes her fair splendor & sculpts it on a bright field of photons & pixels.
she is the art & the artist who paints her beauty (for me) on a canvas
made of light & shadow.
‘my only seed of hope’ she tells me,
‘is that one day I will see you.’
and I will hear the music of love for evermore, I will teach you how to
dance & I will know the true story of a kiss –
if that day ever comes…
(Model: Sierra Mckenzie)
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