Doris Zeidlewitz 1959
She’s wearing my shade––
Saigon Red,
a stop sign against cotton skin.
Across the crowded event,
her well-preserved porcelains,
a dress like french architecture––
spongy stucco below an arched updo.
Her glances, cherry firewood.
I smell, sip, then slurp an oyster
watching the evening’s pearl.
Oh, how I long to shuck her.
Call it drug addiction, but my new mission
is to reunite these orphan twins.
I’ll play the beggar with a familiar grin.
Mouths may be prophets, and
we will absolve each other’s sins.
As she approaches,
I can barely veil my veneration,
strike up conversation
until the tender sparks
connect our mouths.
Color reincarnation.
© 2023 | K. Hartless
Written for Art of Seduction 3/22
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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