I sat on the bus today, with the strength of vinyl, and a girl slinked by me in a flower-print sundress.
Her plastic bra-straps stradled her shoulders, akimbo and slippery wet.
And the man in the front seat almost lost his head, when the bus rolled.
Not seen or heard from by some other woman.
Took a drive this morning, ate my cigarettes, inhaled gasoline, put my feet on the curb leaned on my hood, and not seen or heard from I waited for the movie to start.
The bobcat yowl of an NSX pronounced the night as quick, and your serrated memory cuts like it should.
Not seen or heard from you in awhile.
I bet you smoke with the other waitresses and waiters, busboys, hosts, hostesses, managers, line cooks, and chefs.
I bet you have a good time in that tiny cafe, where you run from table to table with that wild hair, and can abandon yourself to short-term memory and long-term