Wet PaperOutsider Hippie Woman Artist
(c) Singleton 2007
She watches
with sultry
drug-store eyes
and feeds
you
every
line
she's
ever memorized from
the jacket of a
Harold Robbin's novel,
and you
go
there...
you
thought for
just a moment,
there was something so familiar
you had to touch
to have
to try to feel again.
But the flowers in her hair
are plastic
and her
words
are
dirty lipstick smudges
on
wet paper....
you're damaged now...
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