This week’s Little Vines.
it was a shade of lipstick I barely had time to greet
before it met its destiny
scrawling that message on your windshield
I will have just met him
but not that weekend – Next weekend.
That’s what I’ll tell the police.
Shine pencils at paper
like flashlights through the dark.
Illuminate your thoughts.
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.
at one time the ambassador
could be bothered to suck in his stomach
but no more.
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
stranded here forever –
I think people know how it feels –
drunk in a purple doorway
with custom-made truth and splendid pockets of logic
his speech made history
if not sense
why am I ignoring my indigestion
and the sharp edges of its famous yellow proportions
rocketing around my stomach?
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
this is so creepy
in a strangely timeless manner
the vintage plaid skirt swaying seductively on its hanger
I’m here to say good-bye
here in this moment
when I first begin to keep track of my loneliness
he drove me to the airport
the last thing I saw was
a tiny plane parked on a carpet of pink flowers
how it works is
he drinks neons
he gets to buzzing
his thoughts flicker all night long
unfortunately the ploy
split the insect in half
and no one got more than a bite of the good stuff
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.
I can give you a few options, sure, but
there is no guarantee
her disgust will be delicately expressed
two more years is the same as
two more centuries
under this depressed and weeping sky
the flickering ceiling lights
the blotchy ceilings
the cafeteria at twilight
a beach a tourist
a lovely scene and then
a hand with its fingers curled
4 thoughts on “Little Vines 4/22/21”
From sinister to surreal and back again!
Does make you wonder sometimes what kind of box in the attic of my mind I had opened today! Or at least, that is what I wonder about myself.
4849 I think we know only too well. Add that to making history but not sense…(k)
Yes. Hoping for sunny skies. Yes.
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