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summer ball
poetry [ ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [motzoaca ]

2006-07-01  |     | 



it smells of sea salt and fresh mowed grass
in the distance
braided shadows in the white marquis
it smells of expensive parfume and french lingerie
and suddenly
ha- ha -ha posh people laugh in three syllables
I feel naked under my skirt I feel empty
one last golfer is packing up his gear
I wear her laugh in my ears like tinkling earrings
she is faking it she is faking it

.  |










 
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