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South City Lady Jul 2020
honesty comes from peeling back
the veneer of who you thought to see
(the self in me they'll find pleasing)
for the dirt floor essence of my reality

I am no longer Spring's scented bloom
of night jasmine or periwinkle
the smile lines crease my face
and there's an arc to my laughter
that wasn't there 10 years before

when I listen to you, I see
both what you wish to say
as well as what your thoughts imply
and, sometimes, (well, more often
than I'd care to admit),
I pour a glass to numb
the aching world collecting
between my toes,
leaving callouses
on my heart

yes, I'm good at posing smiles
to silence the creaking floorboards
that gnaw me awake inside
but tonight,
here's a toast to
authentic reflections,
bleary eyed
with streaks of silver hair
luxuriously lining
the sheen of youth's ebony

here's to patience
and forgiveness
and an unrelenting
taste for love
The Droste effect depicts a smaller version of itself in a place where a similar picture would realistically be expected to appear. This smaller version then depicts an even smaller version of itself in the same place, and so on, kind of like Russian  nesting dolls.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the ****** and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to ***** up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?
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