Sunday night & Front
Street lays unfolded
in shadows under the pink
and blue neon from the
never open dry cleaners
girls in 80's makeup & hair
look at me from the 2000
Kia.
the sky unzips
fireflies tumble forth
like wasted blinking snowflakes
cigarettes light up and
blow smoke signals
against the rose sky
the 80's girls fade into trash
and I am left holding the fire hose.
***
Hey all, here is poem eight- posted before midnight. When I put my mind to it, writing gets a little easier. And I'm on surrealistic kick right now, for no real reason, just because. Find more kick ass poets at NaPoWriMo
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