Monday, June 27, 2016

Claine Keily # 27 Death and the escalator

The salesman nods
as though he believes
he can tell me of all
I have wanted

He wears a tarnished
wedding ring
and holds his head
in such as way
as to hide his age
as though he is posing for
a photograph
that will never be
thrown away

He asks my age
as if this will help him
calculate further
ways to frighten me
with tales
of skin as pale as mine

I tell him that I am
and  that I have no time
to waste
on buying the
'renewal drops'
on his counter
because my lover is
waiting in a shirt of
pink flamingo
beside the escalator
and that it was
for this reason only
that I passed this way

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