and the Reel Poster Gallery
is painted up onto the walls.
Come on everyone, join us.

It's stranger than music
with une Femme Francais
and les miserables.

All at once and never again.

Position yourself in line today
before Sara calls on you, or takes
your ticket, leaving you standing
in the rain with the Killer Shrews and
the Santa Clause wanting to meet
you in old Bombay.

I wanted to shave my p u b e s
and let them litter the floor at your feet
like barbed-wire rose petals.

Forged in an innocent sleep of little depth.

The sweet smell of corruption lies
and breeds contempt among swarms of
African honey bees.

Sara wrote me a letter once,
with a pen carved from hickory,
dipped deep in blood from the
heart she stole from me.

(c) May, 2000, Steven H. Lee

This poem is also posted in The Writer's Corner at Epinions.com, as well as on Literotica.com.