Olives on Trees

Sticky bordello babies
deflowered from twigs -
both black
and green,

I speak
without meaning.

Yawl and helm;
steadfast stardust,
rhinestone moon
around my neck -

(a kiss
you sold me)

narrow,
marrow of bone
eclipsed (I wait
for you to suck me dry.)

I wait for you
like a god-given
man with lines on my face,

I kiss the ground while you shatter;
tattered - ultra urban symphony -
battered baby
tossed, from the aimless
tree's swaying
underneath the road signs.

She asks for the reprieve (baby)
but you're hypnotized by her
virgin mary complex

her road sign (baby) -
a sigh,
her sticky fingers
in your mouth.

Her watery salt slicked skin;

her words are leveled off,
sandpaper-tongued, speech impediment,
(pedophilia)

she stands Thumbelina thin
and aching -

she's faking her cries
(baby), plucked from each
frosty vine

tumbled, from hand
to mouth - to tongue
to throat - she wont
remember you by
morning,

but she'll mourn you
like a crime. Sticky
bordello babies drowning
in your tepid wine.