you interpret me like a movie

label me like a trashy film star

I’m just a woman

who ages with time

like everything else

that breathes and lives

don’t hate my lines

be a lover

time is sweet on poets

immortal, if you will.

I don’t need to see your path

to feel my way blindly,

I do fine in a crowd,

with my mediocre wear

and wal-mart sandals,
all that matters

is what’s behind crocodile

tears –

more lies.

I hide and bend rules

to my lips,

no one reads or cares

unless they feel my words

inside. It’s a 24 hour

valet service in my

head. pay as you go

in my pocket. all we

want are moments in time

that override time itself.

I left my books at home

but my heart has found

no way out of a dead end.

Smile. all is good.

money can buy that

memory. dive in

head first into each other

find the parts you

missed. they never

leave, fester and

wait for your 

arrival.  words are

storing my luggage.

checking in early now.

time is flaming up

and we are throwing it

too easily. waste some

of it, doing nothing.

6 thoughts on “Martinique

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