the girls in my city

 

 

the girls in my city

the girls in my city laugh
and the men are all strippers
and the night never turns
into the morning
they had meant it to be
they are all high
and it is hey you, hey you!
pull that curtain,
pull that drop down
on the world
close that door
so the girls in my city
sleep very late
and they cannot turn time
into anything but a clay boy
that bounces them
wall to wall
and the children stay still
inside the house
and the dog rolls into sleep
and all their promises
gather dust in the corner
and sing hey you, hey you
when someone comes in
from off the street.

 

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

At some point morning comes, and the all-that-glitters-is-gold of the night before shows its true colors; the men who "are all strippers" become the "clay boy" in daylight, and the shining promises of the night before "gather dust in the corner". This piece exhibits the combination of craft and perception that is the province of only the truly gifted.

[Jibey]

For me this speaks of the empty and parochial view of many, who do not look beyond their own limited horizon and have a kind of aimless desire to be noticed but not to be responsible... Intriguing, at least!

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Sounds like a non-stop party town...where do you live again? :o)