She thinks she’s flying…
and with American dream arms
she stretches out her ambitions
and soars
over rooftops drenched in Vodka
and despair.
Her pupils dilated with diversions of dope,
drugs,
and ballet.
Moving with rhythmic
Rotations.
Head lifted as she soars,
so that she misses the sex sellers
roaming the sewer-soaked Ave
and the homecoming queens in drag
quietly singing the Barbie blues.
Blonde babies
lie cradled in Burberry cloths,
as their wall street fathers watch
porn
disguised as sports center.
Her teeth sparkle as she smiles
while others whine to the winos
traveling through the chill polluted air.
The NY Times says it’s bad
down there
the ground at zero
degrees Celsius.
Dusk turns to dawn
and no one
understands
her rhyme writing
or reasons.
So she closes her eyes on life…
Sensually sipping exotic chocolate chai
with a teaspoon of rape,
and late night debate
about bullshit.
Her decision is permanent
for once in her life
this choice
seems right
so she dances to the edge of the world
and dives,
then flies.
Perhaps
something this easy
to give up
will be easy enough
to find again.
