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Contraband heroine;
Ice packets, ice prophets.
Plumes of iridescent
Neon and platinum shimmer
Like blacktop mirage;
Curving glass hums against
Flickering butane rockets:
Blue and white edged by red
To white, to gray --

Explosive brilliance 
Of boulders tossed into a still pond.
Circles of blue and black
Distend out forever --
Disturbing pageantry:
A gentry with esoteric delusions,
Of substandard highs and
Irreproachable lows.

Deranged phychobabble in three stanzas.
Thrown chairs shatter, raging lunacy howls,
And the Mossberg speaks in twelve-gauge shot.
The lifeline death; her breath is
Sweet like flowers,
Her one night stand, eternity;
She glides, in gossamer gown,
And stoops, thin fingers lifting the
Hard White stone.


©1995 chris abraham