Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Telephone Number On A Matchbook


Twenty years of age

Thinking the world was a stacked deck
She walked into the room
Straight from Mississippi
Thick black hair, curly
And a lit cigarette
Twenty three
With a wicked twist
Loved to dance 
Loved a heavy bass
Ran her tongue across 
Her upper lip
Made me stare
Like I was in a trance


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