Some Things a Lady Just Wears Well
I am the Audrey with the pink chucks at the party wearing oversized shades at night Scary thin, decked in dazzling cubic zirconia, coming down from a med withdrawal after my last psychotic episode involving a Golden Hollywood delusion & fear of having cancer Some Gregory Peckerhead bums my smokes when he has a full pack in his pocket, but my sweet meter is high, like those fools at the makeshift blackjack table with pixie stick dust on their upper lips & caked between their nasal strips because their vice supplier never bothered showing up It should be Halloween, but it's too warm & there aren't enough demons on the dance floor I let the moochy one lead me there where there's an awkward exchange of one liners His Bogart impersonation is the worst, but I know i'm falling in love because impulsivity is the new 'You Can Heal Your Life' & dammit, he can really move We're the clean up crew, sober at dawn I'm Sabrina sweeping up glass & scrubbing vomit from the floor He's singing 'Get Me to the Church on Time' because it's Sunday & lapsed Catholicism is a topic we discussed hours ago before the kisses, before the Moon River descent, before the exchange of names He's driving me home in a minivan His mamma's rosary hangs on the rearview mirror, catching the sun causing disco prisms & paparazzi bulbs to sting my face "Hey babe," he says stroking his stubbly chin, "How 'bout Breakfast at Taco Bell?" It's no Roman Holiday, but I'll call it a win, except when we get there it's not open Wolfpack Contributor Bio: Jennifer Patino
