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The Day Glow Gloss of Neon

Red lips scrubs
Berries and sings
to herself. She
lilts and her polka-
blue gown flows as
Summer forces its way
into the stuffy
clean neoned café

The stain of coffee,
Dark mahogony ringed
ringlets sink into
And around teeth
and gums
The powerful bay
residue mauling
sheet after sheet
of the all important

I look into the
marble _ it glows _
the rimlighting halo seperates
thin aqulaine profiles
From ever-desiring
touch of lip, as if the
kiss will soften stone

I hunker down to
Form words to trace
On paper.

The mind falters and again
The gentle passionate
Muse that provideds
Punishes and I am left
to shit

She moves behind the counter
attracting eyes and soliciting
The affection of others.

I squirm a little
And adjust my legs to cross
at the knee but my view
neither improves nor reveals
your temperment
and you say you
have a short bitchy
fuse and lagueur
in being Taurus.
What do you sublimate?
Do you look at me
With longing or pity?
Is it pain or pleasure?

This tide moves
against my flow
with the horrific
formation of the
entire group.

©1993 Chris Abraham