mantaraye

Thread from Nepal, beads from India:
she winds them into a braid. She has poked
shells into beads, and twisted them around
on twine. Jewelry and cigarettes feel
grungy and glamorous when you are young:
you are the blonde girl generic in your
black and white. Boys with black hair will always
laugh at you, through white rimmed sunglasses,
they circle like sharks on their mid stained bicycles.
And the girls with blue eyes and high voltage smiles:
they don't know when to stop.
His heart- his rhythm- it pulses in her head
every time that he smiles. You see, the feeling of
green grass between toes is the most exhilarating of all.
Electrify me: I will kiss you hard, I will kiss you wet.
Between her fingers, smooth and soft, she gives him
white beads and one blue bead, entwined on braids
up which (she says) she'd climb away: but never did.
Her life- etched in city roads at sunset,
but more colored and twisted:
like shells wound on hemp thread.