the rarity of the floor orders her drinks minus cream, but
exchanges that discipline for kind nicotine
(when offered by green eyes you
forget your tongue
and then remember it)
hand held, saltine mouth streaked
speaks: Why'd you take off your pink lashes?
"Because I wasn't wearing them anymore."
I have flashes of distortia
a personal address flecked with hollow threats flies through the window
stands she and leaves the mid-life fight, left light
I won't carry your fuck-ups, mothers
there's some gorgeousness in my youth and I feel it
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