Wednesday, October 25, 2006
A Hooker Named "Blue"
There's a rat-a-tat blues jingle
That blows down the street like kitchen smoke
And she calls your name from the red room
You brush back your hair, step from the window
Her voice reminds you of last September
And you think, maybe you should call home soon
To the bed, where the neon red light is casting its color
She pats the mattress inviting you over like last Fall
And the whisper in your head makes your head swoon
Her wide eyes remind you of years gone past
The skin exposed looks like porcelain sex, illegal
Lingering in the air, sounds of a blues jingle croon
It's nights like these that turn you toward the bottle
And after the interlude finishes, so leaves this model
Left alone, under neon red, feeling more like a bafoon
With the telephone in your lap, you stare at the walls
Only seven numbers separate you and certain ghosts
And asleep you fall, humming that rat-a-tat tune
-AP 10/25/06
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