CITY GIRL ESCAPADES
Lately life’s a thrill. It feels like
Going downhill on high heels
Six inches higher than usual
But any moment I could drop.
PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH THE ART
Giclée faces in double mat
Signed and numbered
Stare down reflection-free
Salon-hung in a mind palace.
Marble plinths support timeless beauty
And yet, all emotion carved into stone
Is curated, therefore inauthentic
Each a deducted share of paradise.
A failed pass at finesse:
Temptation microdosed as eye contact
Becomes a paradoxical homeopathic
By which dilution increases potency.
What did I do
to be this Yves Klein
kind of blue?
Hair down, spilled China ink
Eyes naked, stained amber wood
Like spritzing perfume into flame –
It sparked and smelled of Oud.
In doubt of having the arms to handle the world,
You said I was the weapon, but
Subsequently, this anniversary comes with
A bouquet of cigarette butts
I marked all their ends with red
Tints from bullets of lipsticks.
Now, my vision is black light
I see the thirsty vixens with hungry noses
Waiting to be eaten right
At this moment are no longer other.