Chrissie

Your face out of tone, somewhere far from ecstasy, tells me all I know, chipped away by time, the daily political commentary, a life steeped in brine, lipstick bright as chrome, when they hang me, will you stretch your bones, on Sunday's drink wine, until the time I freeze, from that nebulous crime, strum tunes on a tooth comb, dance like a honey bee, smell like a newborn, your house on the shoreline, the bottom of a road, will you smell the Limes, as my body lists and groans, act carefree, make appeals on the ‘phone, watch morning TV?