The Loki Dance

"Flirt and Tray"

She is rivalling waitress' who seem to balance so well
flirt and trays ladened by the weight of words lied and
contorted played with food on dishes that is dripping on
the sides of bowls like the drool of 40 ish men who wanna
feel young she is nineteen feeling fourteen smiling a
smile forced with lips painted pastel pink with glossy
locks of hair pulled back and curling at her neck steam
of coffee and feelings reverbed cause she can't understand
the beauty of walking away without naming every dramatic thing
they say she was pretty but she never hears that just hey
sweetheart you bring me more sugar so i can look at your ass
a tarot card reading that says be wary and be brave but she's
soaking in news of bombing and threats that unconsiously reveal
how she feels about her world fucked up she smiles broad and
leans over his bent over back and whispers you know i've
loved you before i just didn't know what it entailed and you
can inhale me and my breath i have learned in recent times how
to kiss and lick a word that i have written to myself she says
i wrote i can be brave and i can be beautiful and the notion of
world trade it makes me bitter but resignation to go ahead and
senator don't you get so close i don't want to know your life cause
it is your secrets i fear i hear Cheryl she knew 'em and now i don't
know where Cheryl is where she is? i could explain a few things but
i don't understand how conversation loops my heart is ragged and i
don't want to be alone she says and turns back to the letters that
are addressed to herself you'll never know me just this semblemce
of a maybe me i've addressed to myself she sudden dives into their
conversation giggling dizzy like it's the first time she's gotten
attention of finely dressed men who drink fine expensive wines to
bide their time i know a hotel and i need a few bucks, yeah in recent
years i've learned how to kiss and i've learned... she says... cold
complacent i could fly, she says and she sniffs as the power is dripping
goodbye and on the political games she plays so innocent well she knows
over the fly by a word exchanged and a little manipulation her breath
is founded by air that is dripping in the acid that lingers in the air
trapped by the bindings of aprons tied too tight across her bosem she
has her secrets tucked into her jean pockets, her letters to herself
blisters on her fingers nicotine stained i wish i could stay she says
but baby, i'm going away. She calls most men baby so her tip is not use
deorderant darlin' she needs to pay for her high heels she needs to
tell but counting sheep during the day makes it useless at night dim light
did you do it? did you lean over him? no. these thoughts occur to her as
she is rivalling waitress' who seem to balance so well flirt and trays.

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