Much-too-tight shorts
And bright colored shoes
Hips swaying - not seductively-
More locomotively.
The pretty woman in the white summer dress
Walks into the funeral parlor
Under the glares of the old women in black
Who seem to be waiting their turn.
And I dream of a white-faced angel
With dark hair with red streaks
And golden bands around her fingers
Jet black eyes peer at me
Filled with infinity-
And she speaks a word
That sounds a lot like love-
And I thought to die to be nearer her
But then the demon came
With his mass of wet black curly hair
And with his stinky breath
Told me to leave- for she belonged
To another, and she disappeared
And I was sitting again
Waiting for the No. 13 on a bench
Next to the old man with stinky breath
Watching the funeral procession go by
In the hot summer sun.
© 1997 nosferaustin@hotmail.com
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