Sandra
is the slim tall
ear-ringed
bedroom damsel
dressed in a long
gown
she’s always high
in heels
spirit
pills
booze
Sandra leans out of
her chair
leans
toward
Glendale
I wait for her head
to hit the closet
doorknob
as she attempts to
light
a new cigarette on an
almost burnt-out
one
at 32 she likes
young neat
unscratched boys
with faces like the bottoms
of new saucers
she has proclaimed as much
to me
has brought her prizes
over for me to view:
silent blonde zeros of young
flesh
who
a) sit
b) stand
c) talk
at her command
sometimes she brings one
sometimes two
sometimes three
for me to
view
Sandra looks very good in
long gowns
Sandra could probably break
a man’s heart
I hope she finds
one.
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