one above top shelf

rush hour thirty
hump day animation
bumper to bumper attitudes
on their way to draw a draft
at the outback or back-inn
cell phone vapors
sculpture delineation of oblivion
nukin’ what an amber ale
don’t hammer edge emboss

she is a cigar store dancer
her perfume is havana heaven
and hell o on tan
tight rolled, firm, fixed fine
works out 3 days a week
goes to the bank sometimes
the other 4 and discusses
the genre of gothic styles
and art of being legal and tender

says she is into hemingway
or robusto in terra cotta
they are on the bottom shelf
only she can select them
without taking her eyes
off your lighter or keys
or whatever that is there
protuberant and attentive
to her effortless expectation

she wears valleys in her cream color
can hold a punch braless
while she leans and lights
a fire with her hips
in the mirror
reflecting back she says
she has practiced that pose
to make soft men
into contented statuary

she checks her hems and hers
drives a benz a mile into ambiguity
then back to vague simile
copper and beige
over cohiba tags
and leather seats
that smell like money
and her lady friends'
white shoulder recollection

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