She’s built like a swarm of bees, green and red on the inside--- I like left-wing girls that smoke *** and are cool; She’s got a dead girl in her suitcase But she blames a man who doesn’t understand
A broken jug leaking ***** She uses on her warts, The alphabet simple as dance, Martha going through time tunnels Arriving late to Warhol’s party In prime diva fashion, She and Isadora going at it---
Someone married violently Someone moving in next door, Tis not the antidote mirroring truthfully crawling over her body--- Gunshot residue divine, Her mother moving away Leaving her in the camp--- Startled by her sexiness