when your eyes grow dark

when your eyes grow dark
after a stroll in Central Park
flip your mental switch to rock
what more can i say?
it's time for a personal holiday!
so whip the backseat stranger
hiding behind your
avant garde mask,
being brutal with each spoken word
make every step become a stooge
jumping over engraved tombstones
going from beautiful person
to beautiful person
carrying a superior air
escaping boredom
like a twice-married virgin groom
dressed in classic furs
pissing behind closed doors marked clearly His and Hers
spitting needles and spitting blood
spinning your winter tires in summer mud
going nowhere fast...
watch the cars speeding past
their blinking neon lights double parked
on 39th street where fancy girls are plainly marked
one femme fatale wore straight blue jeans,
a pretty tissue pushed up her nose,
she punched her ticket to watch the famous sex shows
filled her pockets with petty change
found on the sidewalk between her cracks
where bulldogs once chased a hairy kitty.
a public toilet sink
gave her a wink;
she flushed her face;
the man with a baggie on his head
gave her a kiss;
at midnight
she dropped to her knees;
a small wallet,
several keys,
and a puff of smoke
awoke the neighbors before
a yellow cab drove her out of town.