"This melancholy London - I sometimes imagine that the souls of the lost are compelled to walk through its streets perpetually. One feels them passing like a whiff of air. - W. B. Yeats

Sunday, October 24, 2010

rolling 1

And the colored girls go

Doo doot doo

I am black and blue

Bruised and beautiful

Inside and out

Flying higher

Crashing lower

Doing lines off the kitchen table

With lou reed and a pair of white high heels—

Waiting for the sun to fall

Waiting for the man to call

And say

I need you

On your knees

Right now.

Open up and hold my

Babybird soul

Between your fingers

And kiss it on the eyelids.

And the colored girls go

Doo doot doo doot doo doo.

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