Wednesday, October 6, 2010

You Cost a Nickel

Kiss me and pour all of the penny candy
sweat soaked afternoons into sucker punch
pursed lips
where you cradle saliva drenched promises
pertaining to broken raincoats and forgotten
lunch dates in your teeth.

I will map out routes to India through
your life lines and scattered love lines
and trace the blood stains around your ripped cuticles.
And your fingerprints with hold
bathing houses for all the people you left behind
while forgetting to be scared.

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