A Whiter Shade Of Pale

 

Gentian 50 x 70 cm mixed media on canvas

CONSOLATION PRIZE

His breath smells like women.

There’s a hint of clubs in his pallor.

Let’s click to his favorite apparition—

tall girl splashed with sumptuous perfume

in her cleavage possessing two of those

green eyelids in a Klimt. Bending her back

pressing his nose deep in her damp corsage

he longs to rip the ribbons from historic  

treaties and tie each one to

a naked thigh. But she doesn’t have one.

Nudity as concept or reality is strictly forbidden

here in the heart of the heart of homeland security.

Yet who doesn’t wish for one last fling

beneath wedding cake ceilings, a twirl

across floors of polished parquet?

(If that doesn’t materialize you will have to be satisfied

   with this trivial batch of

words steaming like clams in iridescent dreck.)