Friday, December 21, 2007

Running

Jet black and curved
Stairways to climb and
Banisters to slide back on down
Laughter calls out from the corners of this room
Alabaster walls with
Imprints of ancient tears
Echo beneath the high heeled
Realtor as she says
New heater, fenced in yard and nice lines
We say we'll take it
Much to our mouths surprise
She smokes and says
Good and shuffles papers wearily
Tired of the muffled giggles and never ending cries
Her worn pantyhose are painted with a dot of clear fingernail polish
Just behind her left knee
But when she crosses her legs
Her sheer control top in 'nude' splinters
Sending out a myriad of runners
They race past her spider-veined calf
Collapsing on her calloused heel in silky brown waves

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