Wrap me up in a pretty dress,
feed me gourmet at the restaurant on Grande,
take me out; we'll stay and watch 'til curtain call,
stepping on the shoulders of our slaves,
in three thousand dollar shoes.
Chicago to London,
and I can't stand the turbulence,
it makes my heart beat fast.
I feel out of control & scared,
like a little girl, all alone,
and I don't want to think; about the
substructure, and I don't want to think;
about who is beneath me while I am
gliding through the air--
Tightrope walking, on the power lines.
YOU ARE READING
Please Don't Touch
PoetryPlease Don't Touch is my first self-published book of poetry, written and published originally in 2012. #51 in Poetry, 3 June, 2017 #85 in Poetry, 4 June, 2017 #108 in Poetry, 25 May, 2017 #136 in Poetry, 26 May, 2017 #149 in Poetry, 24 May, 2017 #1...
