Busker’s Partner

By | 23 September 2001

Pick me up and lay me in your lap.
Rest Botticelli hips on your legs
one hand on my stomach the other on my neck.

Fingers on my nape pluck
murmurs and sighs from emptiness.

Then choke me
rub my gut hole
up down up down up down
people coming from all around
I'm rattling into song
you're howling
like Dylan's dog

'til the coins are cased
clipped away

lean me

against the wall

smoke your post-tune cigarette
I'll straighten out my thin bones

and re-apply my lipstick

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