She is Nearly Ninety Now

Here: a room coming back on.   And another room flickering off.   Between them
a dark tennis court the dork vampires love.    Wet base.   A pygmyified marriage.
A mannequin trapped in the 1970s.     Hand on her ex-Texan armed waitress hip.

Chevrolet reflected in the shop glass bowed around retro chandeliers.   Frigid
in the window of the lighting supply store.      A foil backdrop like disco.
A pair of green stretchy pants.     That’s gotta be Elvis.    A dead tomato.

“Flies drop dead on sight of frost.”   You believe these things.    Like a car grill
collecting insects.     Attack of the Gullible Seagull.     Screaming lives
around the corner.    She is a giant squid among petite squid.    She hearkens

back to stray cats.  Collects blankets for some dogs going to heaven. Plays along.

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