She Wins

She
Wins

Eye
do not give a Fig, Newton. Listless as you or Rios cooky. Black as
pitched coke a cola black as nutt can be. The lunatic fringes hanging
from your laminated lamp shaded hat. You are so cold as ice boxing
with Matilda’s fridge a dare. Wearing that shift eating grin in
that Sears suckers suit. Polishing apples with waxing labels of brand
new name calling lentil soup. The board near the cupboard bare while
the Board of Directors sits well in hand turning over a new leaf in
her holed tri-colored Binder Glasses wiped clean and left behind near
the outbored motor grinding softly in the background making coffee
tea or milk for all them meloncoly babes. She lifts her finger as
hushes fall about the place the meeting several talk at once the
talking stops. Begins the meeting flosses all the toothy grins. She
wins.