Lonely girls;

tunes from a banjo with the A string slightly off key

hair shining with the glow of a thousand right turn blinkers

perched upon the roost like pigeons

waiting for the burger on 7th

to slip

slowly

from your teeth.

Slouched; sitting with one foot on the stool

hunched, beautiful backline

over the remains

of last nights prey.

red at the corners of the mouth

neon lights on the daytime marquee.

Nowhere to go and somewhere to be

arms draped over the fire escape

dangling tulips

over shadowed eyes.

Drowning faces in incessant rain

from the garden spigot

they are shivering from the inside with abounding hunger

for…..

but instead:

laid flat, face to the cold ground, to let the warm beast of your body ignite them instead.