Big Pink Industrial Suburban Sunset

by James Kwapisz

Linger a little longer—
let me gaze; how pretty, how shitty
how pretty you are. Rosily, laying lazily
your violets across the light of my days
and fading with my nights’ noir—
my medial, my remedial darling,
how pretty you are.
 
How viscerally tied am I to the lilt
of your rise and your demise, consistent
intrinsic peak, tugging me climactic—
you wear me out.
 
What synaptic failing, what deceit—
to think you slip into your pink
nightgown and out when the sun’s down
just for me.  You cannot be owned,
I know, but when all debts are paid
and we’ve exhausted ourselves of rain
I see you clearly beyond your brine-
encrusted clouds; the sweat of other lovers
sticks to my skin, residual acidic lust
clings to my tongue, yet still
I wish you were mine.
 
Linger a little longer—
let my cigarette smoke entwine
with your wispy, floral scars—
how pretty, how shitty
how pretty you are.