+
- oh, ma belle ville
she hatches in a polychrome palette of stippled tahitian blues and dripping creamsicle hues. beams of gentle luminescence and witty romance wander the grey pebbled pavements of 47th street. she's a riot of colours, that one. [ WARNING, BEAUTIFUL DISASTER REPORTED ON I-387 : a collision of two bodies slammed violently into one heart! ]- oh, ma belle ville
she comes alive when pheromone trippin' punk kids find the right kinda love in the wrong part of the streets, when dollhouse girls double dutch with each other's demons under ballroom chandeliers and daisy-scented boys tie their hearts together with car cables and blow kisses through the ornamented rearview. [ WE INTERRUPT THIS BROADCAST TO BRING YOU AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE: love will always find a way ]- oh, ma belle ville
full of backyard bluebells bathing in her sunset silhouette with burnt-out lightbulbs in their gold-rimmed eyes, sharing pink pills and tequila sweat over happy hour heartbreak and frat boy kissing in penthouse afterparties. [ DING! YOU'RE INVITED TO A BACCHANALIAN SCENE UNDER STREAKY STROBE LIGHTS, we're fueling on cuban cigars and radio static and pocketfuls of plastic dreams again ]- oh, ma belle ville
sweet disclosures of the dip-dyed stars bake the silver-slated sidewalks so that wishful feet can waltz for their hazy-dazed lovers in this utopian landscape of satellite minds and runway hearts. they spend their after hours licking fresh raspberry jam off of ivy vines and swimming in the white water rush of the yearning moon. [ ATTENTION : fleeting figures wanted for stealing peppermint breaths and strawberry chapstick from their lovers' lips ]- oh, ma belle ville
she's as dazzling as they come. the strayed lines of my ballpoint poetry live within her, sending paper plane kisses to 21st century swan souls who dream of forever in large doses and collect fallen smiles off of the cold cement with their trembling hands. [ BREAKING NEWS : POETRY IS NOT DEAD AS LONG AS SHE'S ALIVE, she's got stories trapped somewhere in her phone booths and metro lines, just waiting to be unraveled by flaring tongues ]
YOU ARE READING
SOLAR FEVER.
Romance[ POETRY/PROSE ] dinner table conversations while eating our hearts and chugging red velvet hope out of foreign wine bottles.