i love a low down lonesome lamp
with a lady and her presumptuous thighs
smile or no smile
sittin across from
two smoky ripe whiskey 7s
upon the carpet table
between where adjacent to
is the one windowsill in the office room
with one plant, a dark green beladona mess of hair
holding pose beside what darkness there is outside
-its night
and we're saucy in love, maybe like a debauche
dream of baudelaire
and a good sound of jazz hitting the atmosphere
crisp as shocking as a cold snow fall in northwest
winter shire.
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