Sweet Tomatoes and Red Mary Janes
Ripe tomatoes in the supermarket
The red tip of my own nose.
Their lime green imagination
Marauded by Edgar Allen Poe.
Her silver dollar face raises hellfire
Says the stringy girl who believes in ghosts.
Goodnight to the lucky cat
Who kisses my cheek with his prose.
Her calico hat sticks to dewy grass
While the hooves of the lumpy deer carcass doze.
The weight of dreams lifted off my shoulders
By the kiss of conciousness on my nose.
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