Sweet Cherry
death is lonely
she wants to talk
death wears make-up
has flowing auburn hair
with thick, red lipstick
and peach rouge
heavy mascara
with a solid gold smile
to set it all off
death can't spell my name
as she dances on the sidewalk
on a cold, blustery day
she calls herself "sweet cherry"
she ignores me when I say
"turn that fucking music down"
she just smiles harder
in between attempts at lip-syncing
over Kesha's "tic-toc"
hitch, kick, ball, change
she tosses her hair back
looks around for her next victim
moves in for the kill
without telling me
good-bye
I don't mind
we'll catch up later
I am sure of that
