Whippits & Bright Yellow Balloons

Whippits & Bright Yellow Balloons make me think of you.

Not about to look into those

eyes.

They're pits of malaficious glow

set up to trap unwitting flies

like me.

Your face--

it frames them . . .

a fractured porcelain mask;

a face that fell in on me,

that crumbled into the ocean

between my thighs with

waves

washing over.

so i

Dropped a couple pills

to forget what you looked like

when your breasts are pressed

up against the glass:

Teeth bared in the jackal-heat,

moon high in the August 'burbs

Autumn halo about your hair . . .

the smell of the seasons

dripping from your limp,
wet pussy . . . tied fast

to the scars on your wrists.

But i could not forget you,

mädchen; no matter how hard i wanted to.

Drawn back into the

impish cruelty of your
smile,

tonight

the pavement will sigh

at your passing.