poem monday

lush

there's nothing worse than a woman drunk –
her makeup smeared, hair undone,
pantyhose falling
against the oak bar stool

that horrible hag
crying soliloquy,
hanging her self with verbs,
scribbling words illegible in the morning light

there's ugliness residing in the heart
of the princess of vodka,
cheerleading fornication
to catch the attention of one 50 year old scotch

red and blue sparkles - mama who never comes home
the loyalty flushed down the can –
a scream to make it out, to reinvent
the night so that it never ends


© Aleah Sato 10/2004