新澳门六合彩资料

Roundish, good-natured hills
give way to planes of yellow grass
and grass gives way
to towering glass buildings,
tall metallic pricks against the blue sky
that are like marks on a map 鈥�
hatchings of a city鈥檚 border and what lies within.

The charcoal-colored streets
are somehow rougher
than the dirt and gravel roads
from whence this traveler came.
The streetlights are like smaller suns
tethered to the earth,
windows twinkle strange reflections
like dark lake water.

Later afternoons in skin-tight jorts that cling to my hipbone鈥攍eg hair caressing the cold metal trunk of a gray manual Honda Civic鈥攕un bursting into my love-struck mocha eyes. Leather-tanned skin belonging to a chain smoker鈥擜viators pushing back matte black hair鈥攔eflecting my bleached dyed buzzcut. The breeze carries spring - swaying against Jesus Christ on a plastic sign鈥攃rumbs of donuts lost in a paper bag left in the passenger seat. Two lovers trespassing St. Mary鈥檚 Orthodox church鈥攍egs wrapped around the torso of a birdman鈥攎y head resting on his striped cotton tee. Snapped twigs behind a shoe shed鈥攂roken down lawnmower waiting to start again鈥攎y gray flannel breaking my fall. His boss called again, fragmented banter from his lips鈥擨鈥檓 ignoring my mother's plead to return home. Breathing in his nuclear flumes鈥攁ftershave mixed with the sweat of a blue-collar man鈥擨 breathe and count to three. Something tells me he鈥檚 acting quite obscene鈥攆ingers tracking the stretch marks lacing my spine鈥攈air standing on edge. Calluses on his hands from rough nights鈥攂ruises on my thighs from tough sleep鈥攂itter-sweet kisses linger between my fingers.

A soaring plane above shifted my attention. 鈥淓very time I see a plane, I think it's you,鈥� fell out of my lips. And then I turned back to catch his glance again. It鈥檚 gone. He鈥檚 gone, now he's lost in the sky for the rest of my life.

All these people in my living room
Dressed in black
Top

Bottom

Look to me with glassy eyes and
Pasted smiles
White teeth chewing on ice

I'm chewing on fingernails off my fingers
Never on
What is it they want me to say?
I can't speak round a mouthful

Spit them out in the sink and they'll wait

Everyone is kind
Everyone is patient

Try not to choke as they scratch your throat
Floss your teeth
And prick your gums like needles

It's time to drive again,
Leave them all behind
Nice folks better spent wasting someone else's time.

Those fingernails keep spewing from my bloody lips

This suit will need dry cleaning

Now she's in my head again
Perfect, beautiful
Tempting as we take a wild curve around
Nothing but a stop sign

Will I spin out? Go wild
Like we were all doing back then?
Will the black suits come back
And it's my turn for them

What will the men think of me
With their flashing read lights
When they find a corpse filled with fingernails
Rotting in the night.

I Lost My Memory.

On July 9, 1937, a storage building rented by the Fox Film Corporation in Little Ferry, New Jersey exploded, shooting flames higher than 100 feet into the air. The fire destroyed 42 individual vaults containing the majority of the silent films produced by Fox.

memories play in the back of my mind like cinema on screen.
scratchy tape, cutting the scene, press record, then delete, and record it over again.
play it in color, then fade it out, fade it back in, and make it black and white.

鈥渢his one is dramatic. this one is comedic. this one is romantic. this one is 鈥斺��
I forgot the script, I forgot the scene, I forgot my part.
what鈥檚 my line again?

somewhere in the back of my mind, curtains close.

burning the studio now, I fell asleep smoking again,
burning the studio now, I left a candle on,
burning the studio now, I hated that film anyway.

like July 9th of 1937,
the majority lost to the fire.

the film is gone now.