Tattoo

I'm still wearing
his salty tattoo
with dragon's wings and 
lost eyes. . .
but it all makes right
when he touches my
hand.

And he's, down at the
Sattelite 
telling his lies
he taught a girl to spread
and now she's wearing his tattoo
and feeding his pet
snake.

Maybe when the check comes
he'll treat me right
with a new rose
on fresh scented breast
waiting for the 
anesthesia:
numb.

15 March 1997

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©Denise Angela Celeste