ragtag

wound up like atari wire
she coils
within her corset cartridge
and smiles knowing that 3,000 miles from her entrenched waist a golden-haired love plays the beat that her pepsi-pumping pulmonary produces even at peace.
and the sweet un-release of his absence is nothing less than bi-coastal bondage.
and i am here
as witness to this beauty bound.
this cutie found in the suicide curves of desire dolled up in turn-of-the-century lingerie.
she performs profound pornographies that teach me
how everyday life is sewn by the hands that have known intimacies.
please.
tease every stitch of mediocrity out of this sexually uptight american society.
i'll be here.
another witness
when beauty is unbound.