itchy in jeans with embroidered flowers on the knees,
a white peasant blouse and long wavy hair, a smile
that brings men to their knees saying things they should
not say, and then regret.
scratchy was one of them, a photo of his girl
on his phone, she noticed that
and he had hell to pay, scratchy with Dockers
and wire rimmed glasses, the old ones, not
trendy and cool
like her, itching to
get out of Dodge to something
big, something new.
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1 comment:
Le Femme Fatale?
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