Fish feet in floppy turquoise boots
Freckles and peach fuzz on her toes and knees
The soles of her feet
Touching the soul of the concrete.
Her gum snaps.
Some of the gum is stuck to her tacky, pink lips
Polished and primed with lipstick and glitter gloss
Bejeweled with the promise of a sweet, sticky kiss
That tastes like cheap wine and
The kind of kiss you would get when
The moon was filled with poison and so high
That the wolves had forgotten howling for slumber.
Clink, clink, clink!
Turquoise and opal rings click out a beat
That is maddening with the passing minutes,
Banging against a studded, silver belt
Where wild horses roam the buckle,
Searching for bluer skies.
The bus is always late.
“She’s the one of which songs are sung, raps are spun,”
The elusive urban goddess,
Smearing on another heavy coat of lipstick,
Peering out at the world with horse-eyes,
Earrings shaped like saturn orbiting her face,
Tangled in her matted hair.
She has a far-off look in her eyes,
Cause she’s known better sights,
But is stuck like a shoe in the Delta mud.
A foreign scent to her skin,
Like she had slept every night in a desert
And now she’s a wild jackal caged in a cold, hard city
Where the streets know her name.
She lingers for a moment under the spotlight
Of flickering street lamps
Until the bus turns the corner and she ascends
And is gone.