we are the champion kids,
mean starry-eyed gangster babies,
fresh from the trailer park;
soaking up diamanté danger
in glittering pink sequin bikinis
and rhinestone cowboy hats.
sunset swinging boricua gold hips,
robbers dripping virginal deceit as
'nilla ice cream coats fruit punch lips,
sighing softly under neon moonlight
as we stumble through camelot,
drunk off the fumes of the city.

hollywood heavenly stars light up
our flesh and the fake palm trees
at the 76, a true downriver delight.
degenerate beauty queens beaten blue
by cinema kings craving insanity
and perfection in sweet cocaina lines,
selling our souls to weekly devils
for a big shot of treasure trove ***.

chain-smoking cigarettes because he
called me his pretty little gangster baby;
lazily watching him fly through traffic,
i love his rollercoaster disco mind.
falling in and falling out of the world,
floating across the sparkling nebulae
as he waves his pistol and blue paper
in my face, hoping i'll awaken from
dope saturated celluloid dreams.
praying my baby will come back to me
from the crackhouse down the street;
she smiles to the world, but i can see
the tear stains on her golden cheeks.