rings and rust.
boots, boots, endless boots.
purse n boots
dirty little style whore
too many parties
coyote spirit child
little ship of dreams
warlock for hire
Conducting car crashes from a freeway apartment balcony,
your hands work magic in the air.
You spent the afternoon soul searching
in the navels of girls in magazines.
What did you find in those tiny cavities?
I whisper secrets to my folded knees
while you orchestrate the evening commute.
You are the god of the overpass and I will be your silent queen.