Just so's ya know's, this isn't my work. You remind me of the most colorful of movies. Filmed in the strobe lights, stop action animation with the foreign subtitles switched on. If there were words to express the pinstripe slacks, cuff links and top hats. The white smoke the white dresses so carefully palm. Done up and dressed just so. Of long stems and the slur of vocabulary. So intent to bring on the drawl of the dictionary. It all seems so lovely. Fake red faces to walk hand in hand with the perfume that so cleverly shows off the numbers of Sweden. The way the two step considers the compressed carbon at the bottom of each glass. Each vessel to empty by the end of the night. Conspicuous and willing to put a patent on the lips that spill the untruths no one will remember nor care about come the morning. They are the sugar coated exterior, to the salt from the tongue on down. Among the music, the most desperate of mix tapes. A soundtrack in perfect time to the coming and going of the new and acquaintances. Epic in proportion to the toxins and the tonic. Metronome click to the tall shoes and cigarette boxes. Mechanical gestures. The mannequins unsure. Tight rigid lips to keep in the secrets that those kept in good company have already discussed. Notice every detail, from the waterfalls to the hired help. Smiles that saw the mirror for hours just before. Infectious conversation, seeping in through eyes and the ears of each guest. Mistakenly believing they are one from the other. Lights go down for the finale now. The perfection and perhaps symmetry. The polish carefully chosen to conceal our insecurities. ~ Dawn Noelani Bowthorpe
It sounds like one of those anti-drug commercials on TV with the droning voices. But a good poem still.
It's good. Not the best, I still like Fire and Ice by Robert Frost. Short, sweet, and to the bloody point. But this is a very good poem, nice find!
