112. Miss Anonymous

Cold cement,
scaffolding and
C. Dior.

Passersby
race by quickly,
unamused:

plaintive eyes
penetrate air,
dazed and mute.

Straightened, teased;
chemicals and
strange shampoos:

Turquoise eyes;
nude lips and brows,
pallid skin.

Gawky limbs
rendered comely
instantly

Alien,
frozen, timeless,
pondering:

Stamped upon
cardboard billboards
ten feet long

here, beneath
the apartment
complexes.

Coming soon:
promises are
beckoning;

autumn leaves
swirl and simmer
recklessly.

111. Irresolution

Photo by: Steven Hausler / Reuters

Something is lost in the
delivery:
cold words.

Unresolved cadence of
distant trains whistling;
the world becomes real when we step
outside, the searing
pitch
tugs at skin,
sketches
eardrum

Cold words cannot make me cower
unintelligibly on the
carpeted floor,
huddled in strange
depressive ecstasy

But it is the beginning
of that,
the start of something, of
everything;

little muddy footprints on the
Colorado snow
plains,
insignificant, leading
nowhere, leading
somewhere

110. Wild Child

Photo by: Chris Langton

http://www.earthbook2012.org/author/999

Hairs stand golden,
glistening bristles on your face and
neck;
there is a certain danger,
exotic recklessness
drawing me to you.
I am afraid of you, and
enamoured of you;
I am your predator,
I am your victim.

Wild child;
cannot be tamed, must be put far away.
Lions in their cages
do not bite;
tigers in captivity do not
wound;

Wild child,
I love you.
But it is a far more
lethal beast
unleashed in me,
all-consuming, powerful,
which would ruin me.

Stay away, oh
wild child,
you are a foreign beast;
I must keep you to those who
know you well,
while I regard at a distance,
hesitant, curiously.