Steely chest
She plays them close to her chest
meat marionettes meet real goats
a recycling of her cuffs
chipped tooth and torn shirt
iron travelers with lips of steel
a different body every week
its construction cunning, devious
and never the one
that I remember from
the sun-drenched patio.
Three suns rising
that you appreciate in so many spectra
I hate your electric nerves
but from here
there is no going home
by the time I arrived
Virginia Beach would have become
as alien as you.
The end
Published in Star*line, December, 2007
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