In Front of the Avalon

Missing that
Sultry ****
Of stained coffee
and stale cigarettes. 

We thought we were
French, and perhaps as
Close to rebelliousness
as the Midwest would Allow. 

My eye make-up made
me Alive and a woman 
Stronger than you

And could ever be. 

With those candles
And cement blocks
you penetrated me

And I was alive.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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