Queenie

Crying on the pavement, in bed with her ghosts, a lost lipstick fragrance, she always stayed true, to the trouble she caused, a drunk without the blues, and died shaking the base, listening to Artie Shaw, no longer sedated, when it came to you, the city an open float. cargo boats and other issue, like a schooner heads away, she jolted all our bones, the ones who heard her say, never look away, no one is always alone, literature's your entre', freighters come home.