Saturday, February 28, 2009

tracing a pencil over nylon

a long-distance lecherous peep at noon,
red pumps tracked through venetian blinds,
elusively optical over white-lined stalls
with the shimmer of hose a sweet mirage
that seams upon the tightened urge
and the rhythms that would follow
stiletto footprints on the black macadam,
receding and clicking in the wavering mist,
a mirage to slake this thirst for leather.

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