His hair a banner of white
Her waist a column of pink
What a day this has been . . .
Atrium vibratos of neon
Odors of french fry and ketchup
Lucky Wok Sea Kelp Nintendo
Arpeggios of escalators
Perched on balconies
licking mustard humming along
. . . it’s almost like falling . . .
Archly her plump finger
pokes his starched tuxedo bib
. . . you’re not sick you’re just . . .
Her throat throbs towards the skylight
spotlight of sunbeams . . . that I
dwe-elt in ma-arble halls . . .
Whistle-thin old man beside me
“Oooh that’s a looov-ly song —
she sings just like a bird.”
© by Charlotte Mandel.
Used with the author’s permission.