Twinkle, Twinkle
Mark Coleman
The moment passed.
She walked one way, and I walked the other. Towards the flashing 24. Took a
seat. Ordered a drink. The lights dancing at the bottom of the glass. Schools
of neon fish behind the bar. Grabbed a ponytail and pulled back a head.
Question marks in the eyes. Exclamations gathering. A weak laugh. Put it back
where I found it, and step out.
The flame twisting
away. Avoiding the tip. Toss it in the gutter, and head towards the end of the
block. An alley looking enticing but unsure in the gaits it swallows. Go down
it. Legs everywhere. Down the middle and up the sides. Race to the other end.
Hunched over with the breath choking out. Get the pack back out, this one
lights. Saunter. Headlights closing in. Staring straight at me. Malicious as
Hell. Buy a newspaper. The words come twisting out, snapping and snarling.
A little Classified
boat, and a hot dog cart spilling mustard. Make my way to it. Screaming
Armenian throwing relish. Children crying. Panic. Headlines deny solace. Almost
lose my footing. Castors spinning out. Hands in pockets. Head further down.
Radulae scaling the lampposts. Skinned cats hanging from balcony windows.
Saucers shattered underneath. Rivulets of milk running like spilt seed down a
catamite’s back.
Try to find relief
on a stranger’s shoulder. Fedora shadow creeping down the ridges to the toothy
smile. Words splash out. Start planting their flags and proclaiming victory.
Tears turning yellow and flowing back. Pouts sitting defiant. Swinging at a
prick below the belt. Catch it on the nose. But fail to knock its block off.
Grin caught up skirts decorating the missing person posters.
Knife and fork
fighting it out over a steak bleeding out on a lusterless platter. Staining the
tablecloth. Silver napkin rings with cocks pushed through them. Needle play
from a collared harlot with a sewing basket at her side. Blanket over her legs.
Calico in her lap. Rocking chair scowling. Varnish bubbling. Pustules on
whore’s tongues that are marionettes in Sunday cabarets for venomous looking
tykes.
Pot shots taken at
pot bellies. Run. Gnarled hands sneaking their way between barred windows.
Index finger curling. Fiery pinwheel lollipops. Tossed off the roller coaster.
Drowning. Vats of fat kicked into the street. Liposuction machines sucking
like cheap streetwalkers. Head bobbing up and down. Hair slithering on the
thighs. Fangs at a vein. Confusion.
Walking down the
aisle with a flashlight flickering. Romantic gibber gabber on the screen.
Projector making strange noises. Discovering the butter greased handjobs.
Squinty ching chong blowjobs. Popcorn bucket tricks. Heads swaying. Mouths receiving.
Cunts snaking fists. Twizzler straws up anus and urethra alike. Sugary secretions
puddling. Dykes fellating top heavy dildos. Slapping dicks pocketed in cheeks.
Trying to force two down a gullet. Twinks twinkling. Batting eyelashes.
Usher with
nightmares reflected in his inky pupils. Brained with a fire extinguisher, and
dragged out the exit. Cut wide open. Stuffing ripped out, and used for on-set
snow. Director bullhorning festive cheer. Jesus boning Magdalene. Wolves baring
foam and too many teeth. Tethered up. Awaiting snuff stuff for the discerning
viewer.
Hollywood sign
rotting away. Green dripping. Dreams stabbed repeatedly after a cramped trip in
a trunk to the hills where they’ve been finding severed heads. Break out
successes in the back rooms that reek of charred flesh. Fucked like a star but
denied a spot in the constellation. Just dust off a moth. Beating against the
lampshade. A bulb on a wire in an unfinished basement.
Birds with their
asses hanging out of their shorts making bulges in little boy’s pants. Birds in
cages shocked. Dragged through electrified water. Birds in nests pecking
through freshly laid eggs. Feathers floating down. Man on corner. Cigar in
mouth. Puffing away. Shades and a wide brimmed hat. Birds with their beaks
snipped off still stupidly trying to wing it to the top.
