ForErini'll meet you beneath theb r o k enboughs,teetering. limp above our headsAs the birds recite their singsong spellsbackandforth forthandback in a perfect,unabashed rhythmand the road bends,growing weeds of violetblooms through cracksin the (dead)cement. through a camera lens,freezingmoments in time into onesingle imageyour round face,eyes of jade-and-gold, [with two peachpale lips]is not given justice...a drag off your cigarette.(the greybluesmoke curls around your
-Your American Sister