Chasing My Muse Through Satruday Night Traffic

She was walking down the street today
In those damn green and purple stockings
Treading the white lines
Stalking huntress, frock coat flaring
She’s naked beneath it
God damn it, I’m going to have to chase her
Through the traffic again.

Her fingers are red
Face smeared with rich, dark blood
A child joyfully devouring a jelly donut
Licking her dainty fingertip
Looking back over her shoulder
Eyes caged by razor blade eyelashes
As I stumble, panting
Pinball dodging cars swirling out of
This raving mad man’s way.

She never once changes gait
You could keep time by her hips
Seconds being sliced off of the air
The trees that line the avenue
Wither and die in the wake of her passage
Only to erupt anew
Sudden towers of burgeoning green life
Leafy branches holding up blood orange sky.

I can almost reach
Straining, breath like fire blistering my lungs
Peeling the flesh from my throat
My fingers clutching at her coat tails
Closing only on exhaust fumes
Eyes stinging with familiar tears
Tasting their salt
As her laughter falls down from above,
Cold, cruel rain.

She’s sitting on a lamp post
Legs dangling, paddling the cough syrup thick night air
Her smile a bitter crescent moon,
Eyes agate, invulnerable
Things of the dark and the wild
Belonging to crossroads and toadstool faerie rings
Firing pitiless arrows that pin me to her feet
As the blood drips from her fingers
Becoming the ink
As I carve the verses into my flesh.

This is all she will ever give me
Laughter and just enough blood to live.


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