Nostalgia is the key to all my doors.
She’s walked all paths and knows all flaws.
Nostalgia is infrequent
Well known and is fashionably dressed.
She twirls me around.
Runs the kids wild on the concrete.
And now I am in her embrace.
I spiral into her mind then she starts to mimic me without concern.
Her jet black hair
Twisting and turning as if in a formation.
Yet her glass glazed eyes look like diamonds that cannot be priced.
I can smell her sweet fragrance
Effervescent off her sequin dress.
2 parts her 1 part vodka.
You can hear her platinum voice coming out of her like a child’s melody.
Her heart
A kamikaze.
She allows herself to re-enter my mind
Feeling like decadence.
Memories develop into my body, my person my soul.
She’s a singer, a broad-way, alley-way, down-town singer. Pulling her G sharps and C majors
Like a harp inside my mind, tuning up my inner buttons.
Her voice sharp likes it’s never been before.
Her audience on her enchant.
She brings her friends,
Nightmare and Daydream both known for their contrast, their delirium
And their long suede jackets.
They smile
Just waiting to fill their empty pockets with a part of me.