grotesque
grotesque
The elevator. A shiny tin can. Coffin.
I stare at feet encased in Italian leather to avoid. Everywhere house of mirrors. Bad hair. Lips ricochet off metal walls.
I miss my floor. Key it again. The elevator stops, I hold my breath. Clenched fists. Pretty cell phone impromptu brass knuckle.
A girl walks in. Bow-legged Geisha. Looks with curious dark eyes.
I look away. Confront the image of us. Wall, to wall, to wall, to wall.
I stare at feet encased in Italian leather to avoid. Everywhere house of mirrors. Bad hair. Lips ricochet off metal walls.
I miss my floor. Key it again. The elevator stops, I hold my breath. Clenched fists. Pretty cell phone impromptu brass knuckle.
A girl walks in. Bow-legged Geisha. Looks with curious dark eyes.
I look away. Confront the image of us. Wall, to wall, to wall, to wall.
Last edited by Odette on July 29th, 2008, 8:51 pm, edited 16 times in total.
- Doreen Peri
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