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.