“suck this shit,” she warbles,
bathed in dandylion streetlight.
her straggled hair sits pompous
atop her freckled cheekbones.
her birdface and highbreasted cheekbones
glitter like stage jewelry.
how can someone so poor be?
as pretty as plastic?
“fuck off,” she mumbles
with moodring eyes
and leans in for the kiss.
this is so punk of her.
the barroom moonshine,
the sparkling rocks glass stars,
and the summernight breeze
cooing from air conditioner in the corner
is so romantic.
the humming bartender is a midnight owl.
she shoots poolroom eyes
from her deerhunter hips
until he slings her over a shoulder
and carries her chaos home.
her back arches
like a bitchcat to the racoon
by the alley dumpster.
she spews faded threats.
on the floor of the studio apartment,
dawn spreading marshmallow sun
across her speckled feathers,
she's a purring kitten.
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