smiling with porcelain
teeth. Fluttering lashes and
dancing eyes. Making ladies

wiggle with butterflies. Skipping from
gal to gal leaving a trial of buzzing
curls, whirling his coattails. Taking off

he flies. The days of not are nigh and
growing pitch as night. The women
with stitches in their sides now all

crashing from the ride. The price of
the high is to land with open eyes.
Stand with untethered ties.