Originally Posted by ms. vodka

‘There’s how you think
you are and how you are,’
she said, snuffing her cigarette
out on the bench, exit scent of smoky
lemons. .........................................( can almost see the exit scene of demonic lemons / nice subject object duality

Her specialty
is shadow puppetry.
Fingers contort twelve animals,
parents smile money, no smoking while
working. ........................................( lovely menagerie in a baker's dozen / smoke/work/sweetly disciplined

She lives alone,
in a studio, stove
no oven, no train interrupts,
stingy walls carry eerie songs, fighting
fucking. .......................................( Reminds me of Mark Rothko's counterpane / i have a frigid frig that does not chill, too / very Cool

There’s a photo
without a frame, a face.
She wouldn’t leave home for two weeks,
lying fetal on the brown vinyl floor,
shaking. ........................................( I wouldn't have the guts to express this exposure that raw yet crackles sublimely victorious

Hennessey sits -
creek side out back, watching
nutria swim in revulsion,
swinging her legs off the bridge, berating
the sun. ..........................................( heavenly, love the alliteration, creaks tear what's rill above is still below the sun
.................................................. ....( lemony workings of friction f**king and shaking the sun / lovely benches bridged