The warm
breeze
is out,
and so are
they.
Down the
dirty
boulevard,
brand new
car.
CD player
by the
pool:
lipstick,
red
nail polish.
They feel
like
Liz Taylor-
a place
in the sun.
She knocks
on your
side window
at 1 am;
full moon
over
still water.
She climbs
through
the screen
and into
your darkness.
