Who says drinks aren't free?
Tears and sweat drip glowing green,
stop the tan eyelash model: she chokes
on her own spit, an executive in white pumps
and a pencil skirt, a single mother of a 6-year-old
at the aunt's house watching Arthur.
"You look fabulous" -- a face stretched tight, a VIP arriving.
Two weekends ago, before the bottle service white carpet onyx table,
her hair was curly. Now it is whip straight.
Who says groping can't be fabulous?
Grizzle and silk, hands on taffy sweat
steering this ship starboard. Drinks flow foamy,
white chocolate russians and virgins depreciate
on bar stools too tall, mushroom caps raised in sky.
She puts a hand on your chest, maybe could-be purposefully
touching your second-to-the-top button, and
whispers somewhere words. You do not want to hear.
Instead, you grab her hand, slipcase her fingers,
and walk her through the red revolving door.
I am not a big poetry fan, and I wasn't a huge fan of this when I first read this yesterday because I thought it was objectifying the female gender, which I feel like you tend to do a lot, but today I think it makes more sense to me and I like the word imagery
ReplyDeleteWhat do you think it's about? (Also, all my poems are constantly being revised, the ones online and offline. I think I'm in the camp of poets where it takes 15 years for me to be truly "finished" with the work.)
ReplyDeleteWell, from a 12th grade poetry perspective, (the last time I tried analyzing poetry)something about alcohol, checking out women, flirting ( aka a common topic you like to discuss) idk. I don't really utilize my brain to think about this art form too much, sorry!
ReplyDelete