Bare breasted and smiling to the camera, with a glint in her
cheeks only elicited by alcohol or money, and why on the dingy
carpet, and reflecting in the mirror, did she show the ground
beneath her rug spread open like a science experiment tool box,
for little boys,to search for the hidden tunnel of some mysterious
land? Vines of weeds growing to cover the entrance to the place
a city was made. Why her, and who was he? The man behind
the camera, never seen but understood telling her to be sexy and show
herself to him for later when he'll sit on the couch, next to the old nut-
shells and pretzels and drift off to a time when he didn't need pictures.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
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1 comments:
you sound like a professional i'd have to read for school! seriously you have such a talent. i love this poem and i love the way it ends because it's not what's expected. Awesome job!
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