Something about a heart served with a twist of lemon
Neat.
She wouldn't care for it.
In lieu of that, there'd be something else, sweet.

She said people used to be proud of where she's from.
Continues.
She makes sounds like her mother, she says.
I haven't met her yet.  

Conversation makes way as a live band does through a cracked window.
Disheveled.
And I've seen that tattoo before.
It's a one-hit wonder.

She wears so many bracelets they laugh in a tambourine's voice.
Typical.
Considered leaving this stamp on my hand from last night.
Well, now I'm a pop song too.