The lesbians (the real kind)
haul two-piece bird-baths
to the sopping car.
the soggy trunk
and propped, rusted grease
understood its duty.
dressed like twin couches
in shag Missouri family dens
their hair entangled in
prescription eye-ware;
their hair like elderly candy
at the Strip-mall bistro.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
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1 comment:
Definitely reads well to the new Peter and the Wolf album, specifically the fourth track, titled "Fireflies," tho I don't think fireflies were in Princeton during the writing of this poem, tho I could be wrong. It also goes well with Charles O. in my head, since I've been reading his Selected all day.
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