Cute Left Town

no, no....don't do that.
don't curl your teeth with girlish twang

cute left town years ago.

no, not that, don't do that either.
don't pout deliberately, begging for favor from strangers.

your backsides not as high as it used to be.

no, love, please, don't do that.
don't float about on broken wings.

your feet don't fly like they used too.

mercy, no, what is that you're doing now?
that bed of feathers you once adorned is now filled with flames.

rise out of the past, make friends with your leathery face.

you aren't! you are!  stop that, please!
the aisles in which you dance are filled with ghosts.
they're not here not to adore you,
they're here to haunt you.

learn to read a crowd.

eh, gads!  are you bathing again in your own bile?
step out of the foul chunks
and shake your ankles free of lard.

your tongue, once smooth and pink,
has now learned to braid itself.

oh, oh, oh, no!  bring your ego to a halt!
the crud in which you housed your hopes
has crusted beneath your broken toes.

roll up your stockings,
untie your hair,
peel back your stony face,
set fire to the memories of your youth.

the past is meant to be eaten,
devoured then flushed.

so eat.
flush.
then conquer.