This week’s Little Vines.

4832.
it was a shade of lipstick I barely had time to greet
before it met its destiny
scrawling that message on your windshield

4833.
I will have just met him
but not that weekend – Next weekend.
That’s what I’ll tell the police.

4834.
Shine pencils at paper
like flashlights through the dark.
Illuminate your thoughts.

4835.
the trés simple dress you wore to the opera
sulked in jealous silence –
Expensive, but what it craved was glitz.
Even the seat cushions were showier.

4836.
at one time the ambassador
could be bothered to suck in his stomach
but no more.

4837.
the rich opulent patterns of her hair
my eyes darting, searching,
until I was too dizzy to stand and yet
I never discovered if she had a head in there or not

4838.
stranded here forever –
I think people know how it feels –
drunk in a purple doorway

4839.
with custom-made truth and splendid pockets of logic
his speech made history
if not sense

4840.
why am I ignoring my indigestion
and the sharp edges of its famous yellow proportions
rocketing around my stomach?

4841.
she’s a sharp-nosed mermaid
with the soul of an electric eel
one careless move and there’s no painkiller that will save you

4842.
this is so creepy
in a strangely timeless manner
the vintage plaid skirt swaying seductively on its hanger

4843.
I’m here to say good-bye
here in this moment
when I first begin to keep track of my loneliness

4844.
he drove me to the airport
the last thing I saw was
a tiny plane parked on a carpet of pink flowers

4845.
how it works is
he drinks neons
he gets to buzzing
his thoughts flicker all night long

4846.
unfortunately the ploy
split the insect in half
and no one got more than a bite of the good stuff

4847.
in my business the solutions are difficult
but a rusty butter knife between your shoulder blades
makes a nice change.
I’ll let an intern do it. Good training.

4848.
I can give you a few options, sure, but
there is no guarantee
her disgust will be delicately expressed

4849.
two more years is the same as
two more centuries
under this depressed and weeping sky

4850.
the flickering ceiling lights
the blotchy ceilings
the cafeteria at twilight

4851.
a beach a tourist
my eyesight
a lovely scene and then
a hand with its fingers curled