Beautiful and Dressed in Blue

The carpet smells of burnt creole and dark magic. I oiled the locks to let us escape without moaning. You bring the foil-wrapped candy and the packets full of fireflies. My skirt’s too short to hide the length of my fears. You say you’re all sheep and shiver. Fingers jamming buttons, I question the distance between floors. How far to the bottom of the world. Our new neighbor times his hands perfect on the wheel. Packs of wild roam the streets, holding their jeans by the pockets and howling at for sale signs. We knew the world was coming apart at the seams but everyone thinks they can darn things back to what they were. Personally, my eyesight’s gone south. There’s a hole in the needle over on eighth street. I want ice cream dressed up as the coldest answer. Naked is not the safe way to go. We’ll try the cobbled path up the hill. Backs to the astro, I’ll hold the hem of your skirt in the palm of my promise. Lightning will finger the sky like the sweetest kind of rapist.


Back of the Envelope

Image taken with iPhone while walking.
Words written in the same booth in the back.
Ears On Hurt, Johnny Cash.
Time Taken six? seven?
Brain On buying a parasol. I want.

This entry was published on July 9, 2012 at 10:04 am and is filed under July, Poems, Seattle, Self-Portraits. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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