Lost hours of walls and faces. A sleeping prostitute clutches a rabbit's foot. I am broke, red eyed, vile and depraved.
Street. Spider cracks in sidewalks. The last car on the train passes, magnifying my solitude. Five times again to fall and rise. Sins cast into a sacred rebel river.
Dreaming of Mae West with Parisian night eyes. Together she and I lie, in a bed made of sphinx's riddles and eternal kisses. Beyond the window, the street abyss, that I must return back to.
published in Northern Stars.
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