Soliloquy

Pretty Larceny

it was the year that was,
maybe my last good year
before the towers fell and so did my heart.
it was the year I added a 0 to my life
and a year when my guts poured out
onto the pages and onto the blue screens
of every cinematic horny stranger
made hungry by lack of self esteem,
made mad by music and self gratification,
and being a girl who really understood
the loneliness and the desire tenfold,
the eternal fire and the insatiable lust
of minds gone rotten with angel dust,
it was the year of living dangerously
dodging the cars that were long and black
like ghost barges on asphalt avenues
with steamy windows that slid down slowly
while I tried to cross at every corner,
to find a candy store where licorice laces
could wind around my tongue
and tie me up into the perfect mummy
for which they longed, idol worhsip
of a tight red string, a puppet.
it was a year of sitting on the edge of windows
with the neon hotel sign blinking
and the elevator full of Joey Ramone
with paper coffee cups and hair sunglasses,
gypsy muppets and transvestite ten year olds
lying helplessly in the hall of dark doors
with a worn out wig and ten candles
trying to make a call to the Otherside.
it was the famous year when I took the world
by surprise with an ingenious lust for life
and a sexual prowess not known since
Nancy and Sid strangled a knife in the sheets,
some inhumane woman or Titan beast
hidden in the wet late hours of 23rd Street,
tickling the tongue of shady sideliners
with the long since lost-lust
of those who enjoyed the tailspin of my youth's demise
as it glimmered one last slap in the face of life.
it was the year that was alright.
9/08