Purple Twilight

Purple Twilight1

Purple Twilight

She was tumbleweed tall and free. Prairie. Wild.
Laughs bloom, boobs, soon desire fills her empty lot.
Wind blows.
He was a grocery store, wide shiny aisles, broad flat floors.
He was from a family of distributors hard to ignore.
Before they knew it they couldn’t help but do it to it.
Knolls and nooks made him warm. Time.
He smoothed her, paved her, painted white lines.
Where the weight of his trucks drag her backside, grooves,
she lifts, kisses him, holds him so – and so.
Purple twilight.
Behind the fences that border our parking lot
TVs flicker, dinners bubble in microwaves, childish screams
shatter into laughter. He told her about the strip mall.
Strip mall? She flipped and split.
Potholes and broken bottles later she’s back,
cracked. By morning,  things were different, everything the same.
True as blues in spring, four stores inhabit the southwest corner.
A government agency’s busy as busy,
flat fat tires peel daily across shoulders and hips.
There’s a dollar store. Between two of the four
one’s always empty, lately, there’s a chicken wing thing.
Long summer sigh.
How long’s it been since she’s been paved?
Not since I’ve been here. Me.
A solitary bus bench built back when.
I knew her open, carefree,
stickers poking dirty feet.
She’d turn and be lookin’ crazy. At me.
I’d look the other way.
She blasts into my back with a Chinook slap
then whisper secrets she’d make up on the spot.
Stretching langorously, wearing nothing but the summer stars.
Tonight I heard her sigh and felt the purple in her heart.

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One Response to “Purple Twilight”

  1. [...] in ‘09 I experimented with my poetry and video. The following were precursors to creating Purple Twilight and Vegas Beauty Mark. I think it’s more successful when the “poems” are [...]

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