deepundergroundpoetry.com

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�She sits across in the room on a custom made Durian sofa � �
�with burnished tiger print � � � �
�her three diamond pendants shine softly
�in the dim riot � � � �
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�She � �
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�-thrusts herself once � � � �
�-toys with her silken curls � � � �
�-snaps her manicured fingers� � � �
�-puckers her glossy lips� � � �
�-takes out the small mirror � � � �
� that reads DKNY in black � � � �
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�She � �
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��daubs-brightens-highlights � � � �
� mascara-lycra-extra-ultra � � � �
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�She �
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�-shifts her weight � � �
�-pulls her top and shakes � � � �
�-pretends pretending to � � �
� read Women's era- � � � �
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�Probably bored beyond return she crosses her leg again- � � � �
�checks her Tablet and goes on to stare in my direction � � �
�cause every other table is occupied and there is a couple � � �
�everywhere else � � � �
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�The whole place looks like�a rotten-god-forsaken scam � � � �
�from behind my dark glasses � � � �
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�I must not have blinked in five minutes cause she starts � � � �
�to form a halo-steams up�and I close my eyes finally as � � �
�two warm drops of tear fill in ancient billabong-succumbing��
�to gravity and in that moment I want to write a love poem �
�but it wont come to me which is just bad-almost acliche � � �
�the waiter brings my bill and hands me a tissue paper which � � � �
�says-in-translucent-bright-pink-the-words-in-caps-f a g g o t- � � �
�may be maybelline.

Image courtesy-Patricia Carrol