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
The fickle camaraderie stare,
you are there.
Horses mane, makeup pristine, you’re shining.
Crowd surrounds, she smiles.
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,
lana turner photo