Madcap/We Touch Base as Harlots
If I could just get in the habit finish introspection
the old psychic sidekick my absurd hats.
I’m playing a ghost of myself as orchids suicide.
I’ve been patronized
now I want to get paid.
I am my father’s daughter
drinking scotch to watch the Christmas movies
before they go away.
We’re warned of the azimuth
all the roses are icy all the corpses frozen
with your swampy crystals
and domestic scenes are so cozy if red cheeks are colorized.
I strap on my snowshoes
throw myself at playboy Christ
if I could just get in this habit
timelined and pre-amplified
say coffee makes me me again
but really it’s blue drugs
the miracle cure candelabras are everywhere
mermaid pink nails and depressive hedonia
becoming a virgin a kitten again
by the radio tube
the coupling loop my hand in my tender blonde crotch.
What’s the significance when you don’t want to sparkle
or pray with old notes the cat-crunch
the everlast manicure.
We deem this a Paris divorce
after the deer after the soft
after the lost frost of Christmas or cinema
assigned seats in Vienna.
I give you credit for the mildly pornographic
milky prototype. I give you credit
for leaving the house as Harlow or Lombard
pink cheaters white sun.
You say the palette of blush is too much
but make-up’s my escape as is smoky pink faux fur
and when you do your nails
when you wash your hair
touch up your roots each Sunday
God save your manicure
this will take on a texture like foreign cinema
the fair woman acts dark a depth I can’t articulate.