the glide that stuck to her fingers

jack booted thug, group of a bullet

threat thereof

 

to take what he wanted wearing the

muscle, wearing

 

the cobbler’s nails

 

blackened stubble on a hardened face

with shallow

 

depressions where a blade cut in like

furrowed soil

 

gave coppers the slip down crevices in

mortared walls

 

carried the jackknife rusted deep down 

a soiled 

 

pocket with stolen coins, flipped, tails

they lost

 

held up in four walls and a dirty mattress

dirty sheets

 

rusty water dripping with intent to  commit

annoying feelings

 

curtains painted with dust, termites eating

bedposts

 

lifting a wallet felt a woman’s hand soft

manicured nails

 

smelled fresh linen clothing and high heels

short skirt

 

she ran her index finger under a five o’clock

look got

 

his undivided

 

shave and a two bit haircut, three piece with

a gold

 

chain watch, looking rather sharp, smacked

a kiss

 

moved to a city loft, big brass bed that spun

sensual intense

 

reformed, he put on the needle, put on the

record phonograph

 

she danced the glide that stuck to her fingers

he applauded…

 

Copyright © 08/13/2013 Ð Ṝ Ƣ Ñeedle & Ŧhread®

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