Not Technicolor

Just the moon

or a touch of hot white neon

maybe light from the hall

or the open curtain

of the bungalow across the way

The tarnished fan slurs dusty sentiments

like good gin and bad whiskey

Too late for bed

the dame crosses her legs


Scars and bandaged pasts

shrink in the light

figments of yesterday’s sobriety

Hey you, reformed one, hop in

I’m taking you for a ride

~

words: Lynne Shapiro, New York (more & more)
original publication: Not Technicolor / Trespass Magazine
(this poem was featured on the Trespass website (accessed by clicking the gold hand) but is no longer on their site, it was also included in a Trespass print issue, a scan of it, here.)

image: Peter Schwartz, Maine (Sitrah Ahra)
original publication: mute knows how / Mad Hatters' Review

~

another ride: Nomads Like Us (#16)