As a kid I remember seeing imprints of leaves on cement streets.
As an adult
gum sticks on the sidewalk,
outside dirty bars and playhouses
cigarettes burn.
The fickle camaraderie stare,
you are there.
Blonde hair.
Horses mane, makeup pristine, you’re shining.
Crowd surrounds, she smiles.
looks down.
Your soul, its no mystery at all.
Clone copy of every other broad,
that never liked to look at books,
but magazines featuring lives of celebrities.
Tell me you like Plath, Ginsberg, the clarinet of Benny Goodman and
will you walk for miles with me and arrive no where?
Seems its frightening to just be.
Without reserve, I had the nerve to let go.
The lives of silly girls;
I explored it, got bored with it.
Very important persons sitting,
awaiting anything.
lana turner photo
if you like sylvia plath try anne roiphe’s “art & madness”
- gina
http://scissorandthread.wordpress.com
nice, ill check it out!
“awaiting anything” …Beautiful as awalys <3
thanks!
Your words are absolutely captivating.
This somewhat reminded me of a Dorothy Parker poem…
Why is it, when I am in Rome,
I’d give an eye to be at home,
But when on native earth I be,
My soul is sick for Italy?
And why with you, my love, my lord,
Am I spectacularly bored,
Yet do you up and leave me- then
I scream to have you back again?
Dorothy Parker, On Being A Woman
Brings back memories of past girlfriends, it’s nice to be able to look back and know you’re so much better off now. Wonderful work <3