Like too-red lipstick bleeding along the edges of a garish, homeless smile.
The attack of more-than-enough perfume on a smoker fooling her vanity with dime-store remedies.
Still and stoic, the bittersweet vapor of cheap detergent puttering in patches along the edges of a building teeming with poverty.
Ugly is hard to hide.
There are no suits and ties fit to polish insincere words and truth is a misfit in this coalition of proposals and counters.
When did they dither to this place and why do they remain?
A tight pair of shoes, those must be, that crimp and pinch so fiercely she can no longer step out of them to feel the grass beneath her fair feet.
Why does he bother to smile or to frown? His expression has lost its irony. He is blank.
Armed with my promises, anchored with my trust, they flail, they fail. Who says? I do.
I should like to give them my shoulder, but only if they find me.
Instead, they chose to be lost. They prattle and pout in my name. They disappoint.
And I owe them no honor.