tagNon-Erotic PoetrySide Walks End

Side Walks End

byPreta©

The place where the side walk ends is
there in her smile,
red lips like a surgical scar
reopened,
to find that the teeth are back
and hungry.

It's there under her skirt
when thighs cross,
the indifferent rasp of nylon
claws up your spine,
flaying nerve endings,
and your hackles rise.

The place where the side walk ends
is at the bottom of this drink
or the next.

It's in seat 6 aisle 4 of
the Pussy Cat cinema,
where it smells like salt,and,cum,and,Pine-sol.

There in the jack in the box thoughts
of violence,and inhuman pleasure
in unspeakable cruelty

The place where the side walk ends
sits like a deformed orphan,
waiting for me,
endlessly.

I put baseball cards on my wheels
so it knows I'm coming.

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