a ghost holds the past in an empty room;
You ask me to speak what the cards reveal--
your life laid out in pasteboard cartoons.
Go home.
Ask someone to smack you, hard.
Or stay, but it's gonna cost you, sister,
to move my hand from the back of the card.
_____
For Words Count with Mama Zen.
I can't tell you how much I enjoyed that song--perfection with your poem, which pairs ethereal image with the rough side of the concrete world--what we see isn't always what we get, is it? (those fifties images right out of my childhood--how bleak they look--and that smoldering adolescent glare from Christie--hilarious.)
ReplyDeleteOMG. I am laughing SO. DAMN. HARD. Praise Jesus for this bless-ed poem. ;)
ReplyDeleteI mean, the title alone! You clever girl.
Man, this is priceless: "Ask someone to smack you, hard." I'll have to do that later tonight. I have no shortage of folks willing to hit me.
I've given tarot readings before, by the by. Just a little fun and useless trivia for you, my dear.
ReplyDeleteVery clever, and a delightful read. Greetings!
ReplyDeleteLOVE! THIS!
ReplyDeleteI adored the play on words (the title) and Hedgewitch is right--the song is sheer perfection.
ReplyDeleteSound words, to me.
ReplyDeleteHey Shay--I guess you get what you pay for! A wonderful transition here--and also enjoyed song--his voice (I like) but also so simpering--and a crazy two-faced time depicted. Thanks .k.
ReplyDeleteWhat a falsetto voice and loved those photos. It would be hard to leave without knowing and yet ... Tempting to pay for what's beneath her hand!
ReplyDeletethis, too... ~
ReplyDeleteThat's a helluva reality check!
ReplyDelete