cushion backed couches in the onion room

sitting sandwiched between two brunette

girls hair curling 'round their ears,
golden mahogany guitars under their
right arms strummin' harmonizin'
singin' 'bout soldiers with their own
combat boots tapping the low low floor.
dark black fingernails and a room that
smells like onion teeth but beautiful
sounds urging from their lips breathlessly
swirling into my own curly-haired edged
ears, sitting quietly with my eyes to the

ceiling just thinkin' just hardly wonderin'

emptying my mind looking at the sun

coming in through the kitchen window

and no more thoughts a raspy voice

coming from the girl in the boots

sayin' sweet olive tree and honey bee

and the other golden cheeks auburn

eyebrows and a ring on her middle

finger. i feel my teeth with my tongue

and my own onion breath, put the

baby's breath on my head, sit back let

my eyelashes curl in rising scales.