My backbone curls on the hood of a red corvette.
Ciao Southern California.
Peeking through one hand,
Skies never understood the concept of forever.
Neither did you.
Partial angles of light, a triangle here, a square there,
Black and orange stripes pace through perpetuity.
How hard can I penetrate that period of insight?
I’ll stop when it bleeds a maroon anguish,
Tragic tears, twice as red, my Greek tragedy
Drowning the river Phlegethon.
Sexed up, an orange pounce, a black segment of desire,
Common sense feels her body charging,
This feminine sexpot springs immediately,
Lures around the asphalt jungles of L.A.
My bright eyes, black and blue, sunset skies.
Sometimes it’s purple and beat-up.
I see a tigress panting
Between legs of lush palm trees.
I identify her as Jolene, I’m begging, please
Don’t take him away from me.
Oh, my American boxer,
Run away to the edge of infinity,
Fight off mounting temptations with fists of fury.
Get out of mind and space, out of Hollywood.
Honey, I’m calling you.
Skies switch colors rather eagerly,
Don’t you agree?
Alteration of black to orange,
Adjustment depending on mood changes.
I don’t want to be in LA anymore.
I’m lugging a baggage around town, so robust,
A sexual fireball of
Retro black lingerie thrusting out, white lace and all;
The Victoria top secret kind,
A kind of femininity only a tigress understands.
I wrestle against her animalistic want.
This Lolita corset strangles my intentions.
I confess the weight of my desire is too chunky.
I lie if I say I am not bothered by her.
I die if I don’t see this burlesque sky tonight,
On the hood of a red corvette,
Ha Kiet Chau is a poet and freelance writer. She teaches art and literature in the San Francisco Bay Area. Her writings have appeared or are forthcoming in Plougshares, Asia Literary Review, THRUSH Poetry Journal, Bedtime-Story, Marco Polo, and many others.