The was no joy in her dance
As she spun around the pole
Hips like icebergs
Carving up the scenery
Thick with
Ammonia and bleach
She wore
Black lipstick
Underwear and eyeliner
Like a wounded dog
Eyes sunk into a marsh
Looking out at nothing
As I sit and watch
Her loveless display
And wonder
Why she can’t be
What I picture
In my mind
Her *** is like a
Tiny sun
Swaying in the void
Warping gravity
Bending light
Fixing gazes
Earning dollars
I want to
Take her arms apart
And build her
A blue island
There is no one else
But me
Watching her
Loving her
With museum love
The way you love a
Picture
Or a concept
Knowing full well
What it isn’t