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



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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