Tangerine Lady

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tangerine lady

She slouches on a leather couch
blond hair falling onto a silk blouse
a lady stares from behind a wall of
glass… nods hello –

She sinks into her own safe world
free here, no one cares about her
bleached blond hair, lipstick the
color of a tangerine…

Her long slender leg’s cross and uncross
her spikes fall off exposing
brightly painted toenails –
American Health opened on her
lap, a pack of Salems to her left.

Each Friday at nine she waits for him –
slept together beneath a full moon,
made violent love,
she called his name, and reached a climax –
he never knew. He never knew –

She sets the table for breakfast,
wanting to be his bride…

The woman protected by glass watches
a Tangerine Lady as she snaps her gum…
The office door opens, she stands…
her secret lover watches as she bends,
lifting the Salems which fell to the
floor….

The Tangerine Lady smiled passing the
woman no long protected by glass,
“trash,” she hands her the wad of gum.

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