January:
Glasses bow and girls
in sequin dresses snicker
at fresh adventures.
February:
Hot-lipped kisses, gasp!
I sleep alone and devour
warm, foreign phrases.
March:
Silver clouds loom in
dark-eyed nostalgia. Damn!
Tears spew, uncovered.
April:
Sociology:
Rich, white men corrupt the world.
America's dead.
May:
Bare skin against sand
and one sapphire ocean,
too cold to fondle.
June:
Vanilla cigars
pollute the park with candied
teenage rebellion.
July:
He craved that goddess,
but jungles and diamond seas
made her disappear.
August:
A raven-haired girl,
hot from fading summertime,
bathes in newfound pride.
September:
Alabaster men
Tip cups of crystal liquor
and women scurry.
October:
Chinese poetry,
Rain on the fog-stained window,
and I yearn for him.
November:
I flutter in white
as a blue-eyed boy whispers,
"Be mine" and kisses.
December:
Good girls clutch their hearts
in their hands. Fingers loosen
when the belts come off.
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