09.22.09 11:44 pm

pink cheeked on five dollar wine
we're walking the shiraz
(or was the shiraz walking us)
girly high fiving the score
of a scribbled phone number
in the haze of a rushed goodbye.

we two, corner gazing
the passersby, laugh the let go
of clockwatching go nowhere
days n nights n months n years.

highheeling the hardness
of this bald city, stripped raw
in the glare of the hot street light,
we cannot stop this night
from burning into ashen
beginagainandagainandagain...

but perfumed we (with too
shiny eyes) still lipstick try
the coy "come on, moon. stay awhile.
we won't (maybe just a little) bite",

our smiles already the pillared
statues of salted never answers.