Asked for a ladder that Jacob couldn’t climb,
The clattering hubbub pulled my minds eye
To the gash in the back of her black wool tights,
Might try to cling on tightly not tiredly
If they weren’t so unsightly, reuniting skin
With fresh air, oxidising her legs
Along with her burnt copper hair,
Girly curls of wire curling so wildly,
Wily as a coyote.
Call her a talking, flaming bush, I’m blaming the peyote
What’s there to show me in your red leather bag?
Adorable Pandora or fair weather hag
Using the bag to haggle with her hangnail charm,
Two hands hang at the end of her arms
Cutely curtailed with cuticles so beautiful
They disarm. There’s no cause for alarm
But looking back, they were beautifully black,
Cos black nail polish is a tip top tactic
To hide all the grime,
The sort a whiny white male would acknowledge as
The secret residue of cut lines.
Her plush cheeks blush meekly from the pre-dinner wine,
And cork coloured eyes spill wider
Than the widest oil spill those sinners tried to hide.
No truth, just crude lies cruising so wide they were
More out of this world than that Buck Rogers guy.
Watch her buck teeth chew the buckwheat,
Buck the trend of the lean in 15 cheat sheet.
Got some pretty neat tats,
Inked in bric-à-brac stacked
In a handy habitat
Between each finger, imagine that!
My gaze lingers like a lazy acrobat on
A love heart and a peace sign and
Other tat like that,
Abiding, silently hiding until the oyster emerges at the end of the line
Hard to define such a boisterous girl
When you watch her spit out a spearmint pearl.