Thursday, October 29, 2009

Start at the top.

Hair stays in untamed curls; freshly clean or overdue and dirty.
Same look, brushes can't tear through.
Daily goals backburned for search of a cupcake.
Eyelashes in permanent curl. Persian princess; dark & full.
Crush em'.
Pitch or boardroom, bed or bar.
Lucky winner with the right type of conditioning gets the prize.
Are you from Queens?

Digress. Slower now, but at pace.

Sensitive again; hidden for a moment.
Manic expressions and shocking deep sentiments.
Same person; two contenders.
Both vying, lucky to brim for facetime.
More intelligent spoken sentence fragments then in the outcasts of a Hemingway moleskin.
And still no sense to be made.

Daisy smashing, gallery attending; bottle in the left hand blackberry to the right.
Heated by an exchange, shoulder shrug for another.
Eyes go crossed in the passion of a moment, roll deep in the other.

Thoughts in Spanish cloud the English. A reason for tangled sentences unfinished?
Maybe dude. Que Sera.

Pour the beer, devil the eggs, sauce on the side; an Italian chef's worst nightmare.

Simple and patient. Riddled among the party antics, insane stories, and brash attitude is a heap of reluctant intelligence.
Consider yourself lucky if she bares it for you.

Fuck it.

Hike the sensible out the window.
The backpack is filled for the week.
Essentials only please.
Underpants, hot dogs, gun powder, todos.

This, my dear, is a Brooklyn Bridge kind of night.

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