Meticulously maintaining Impossibly feigned nonchalance, Toying the cigarette ever so slightly In her fingers -- careful so not To appear as too calculated
The pariahs parade the dancefloor, Shades of ignominy culminating in a Prismatic rainbow, heightened by The stale odor of ***** and body heat
Still, she stays in her perch like a silent sphynx Waiting -- watching -- Aimlessly, but with direction, such Carefree flamboyance below her, A stoop to which she’d never deign
And so she watches, resigned To fate, as much a fixture in the joint As the gilded barstools -- The closest she can come to confronting The fact that she is no different Than any of the rest
After so many years, finally attempting to resume my cinematic poetry project — this one based on 1934’s WONDERBAR, as easily inferred