she stares above the cloud
platinum
and lining the familial distance;
painters pallet
hosting platform for brush,
stir and echo . . .
stroke and resonate . . .
torture the smile -
leave hesitant hair
shading the eye from night complete
the pretty head tilt
submission, there is something
else not lost ,
not taken over, not ambushed.
an amalgamation
time and sight,
it works that way day and night.
there was no recognizable temperature,
no flaw in the air;
comfortable . . . tiring.
the L rumbles,
SHAKES the inside of my car
giving vibrato to scriabin
and in good time.
it settled,
the train passed and . . .
there it was.
knee high stiletto boots over fishnets,
a mini trench, ass high,
dark brown, lengthy hair
to blend,
pushed up tits for show.
it was a moment,
nothing could really be said
or commented on at the time.
the weather nothing to argue about
and this woman was
as outstanding a whore i'd ever seen;
an easy presumption to make
in mid september
at irving park and sheridan.
