the silver orb retains
her focus amongst
deranged clatter and
the Las Vegas of her terrain

Speaking, slurring, with
the most leaden of drawls
she awaits new destinies,
the new directions of evangelists

never wanting
never expecting

she freefalls
caught, rebounded, freed
reflects her surroundings
with perfect admiring distortion

desire is not her lot
life is blinding, fleeting
creepishly carnie, and
her suitors spend freely

full of desire
full of anticipation

lust is marked on
tally-boards that total
skill quotient, prowess
metallic clacks and cigarettes smoked

historic records reveal
those who kept the fire
lit brightly longest, who amused
the tenant of this glass house

always ready
always open

age betrays her, reveals
all in the lines of her face
smoothed ruts that speak
experience and betrayal

whistles of a different nature
the song that now mocks
bells that ring too long
spindly legs rocked to buckling

never the bridesmaid
never the bride

© Tom Watters  4/24/06