Sunday, March 6, 2011

On the Rocks

She would stand there in the darkness with a petal for a skirt
and prop herself on backs of crowds and drape herself in strobe
And while her clackers teetered, throw her weight from toe to heel
Her hair would catch and complicate the earring in her lobe

She used to find tonight's conviction in a stranger's conversation
--used to love this darkness and this spicy, hopeless air--
she used to warm her hands on every hothead's flirting rhetoric, and
used to find a poem in the bottles by the bar

She stands there at the door tonight and cannot quite go in
The clanging glasses ring defeat; they keep a hollow time
and panic wrings her hands--tonight has happened (so) before
She steps inside and orders sorrow on the rocks with lime


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