The end of an era. ….
If these walls could talk…..  
there are certain places
Places that come alive
just before the moon reflects brightest
And out come the creatures of the night
Until the cranes and wrecking ***** put an end to  the parties full of passion and misery
Fueled by fuel from Mexico and now China and the occasional trailer  which escapes explosion in the Arizona desert
And just like the destruction of the rainforest
A different sort of habitat,
yet one just as natural
is destroyed
Where do these creatures go ?
In a country
Where adapting and social jockeying
has become harder and harder.
At least from the bottom.
Everything is harder from the bottom.
Just ask someone who’s there.
But somehow nature finds a way to survive and a place to go
And Like the barnacles and clams taking over the great lakes
so come to plagues on Massachusetts Avenue.
Development .
Progress.
The incandescent red light bulb just went extinct on US 1

~
Lipstick to void. She is a race against time. The beveled past a disruption in her lines of influence.

Travel is dangerous, and tonight it darkens the highway of blood vessels coursing through her extremities. She wants to be luminous and under the skin.

While Dorothy dreams of tornadoes in Kansas, she dreams of remote climbs in lesser Glasgow, of party drugs in Tokyo. How many lights does she see?

In her hair are sixty circuits. But she waits, religiously inclined on the hotel bed. She drove through ghosts to get here wearing nothing but Las Vegas.

So strange at this hour, in a city full of sleepwalkers for the taking, she now dreams she's a bulldozer, she now dreams she's alone in an empty field.
~

She painted her lips thick red.
Tasted like wine with the scent of cigarettes.
Worn out stockings and red high heels.
A sassy top, not a cover-too revealing.
Long lashes and curled ebony hair.
If she eyes you she'll give a glare.

Sanya will dance tonight.
In the tables of men where money rests.
After hours she'll force a smile.
Heading home where her siblings lie.
She'll give them food she'll kiss their forehead.
And like she does everynight.
Sanya will sing them a lullaby.

Once he met a *******
She seemed happy
and little pride on her face.
He asked her
"Why did you choose this? "
She replied with a mocking smile on corner of her face.

"Because I'm good at it............................."

Crisp summer breeze tickle wreaths of May blooms
Yellow flats traipse blocks where blue ocean looms
Serene waves greet shore's walls in fervent kiss
Moon's afterglow brush the scene in pure bliss

Fine sand witness time like dateless heirlooms
Brine's musk basks nightfall in coastal perfumes
Woven foams' calm poise in fond reminisce
With each cycle's ending, they go amiss

Red heels graze concrete in sultry whispers
As the salt-rimmed glass plays in my fingers
Gotcha!—my hapless victim for tonight

Caught my breath, it only faintly lingers
In front I stand, a door with four ciphers
"Aphrodite, save me" begins the plight

I guess I’m a different sort
A kind of jiggle-free ******;
When the fun turns to money
I always choose to go.
I have no beef with prostitutes,
Some are great at having fun.
It’s just when it comes to me
I’d rather see than be one.

I am usually flat broke
Not a dollar to my name.
It’s almost like saving up
Has never been my game.
I know I could maybe do well
By snuggling someone wealthy,
But I know people who did that
And it never worked out healthy.

I guess I’m a different sort
A kind of jiggle-free ******;
When the fun turns to money
I always choose to go.
I have no beef with prostitutes,
Some are great at having fun.
It’s just when it comes to me
I’d rather see than be one.

I’d much rather just play around
And see what happens then.
I don’t plan and I don’t demand,
I don’t insist we do it all again.
I might be gone when you wake
Off to have new adventures.
I don’t care if my wandering ways
Are looked upon with abject censure.

I say it up front, so no heartbreak,
I tell you please don’t to marry me.
I pay my own way and sleep where I wish.
I don’t need anyone to carry me.
If you see me down the road a ways
And I’m behaving some other way instead;
Not the jiggle-free ******, I am normally
Then bury me, it means I’m dead

I guess I’m a different sort
A kind of jiggle-free ******;
When the fun turns to money
I always choose to go.
I have no beef with prostitutes,
Some are great at having fun.
It’s just when it comes to me
I’d rather see than be one.

Brent Kincaid
4/28/2019