Feelin’ lyrical today.
Why I can’t be the wife of a man with mob ties in 70s era Vegas
I tried to paint my nail tips red
like Sharon Stone in Casino
when she was in her gold
The acetone in the shot glass
looked a lot like one of those twelve
dollar birthday shots.
I aborted the project; I couldn’t
wipe the polish into crescent moons
like Korean women in a-line dresses.
I couldn’t get all the pigment
from the edge of my nail bed.
I couldn’t find a mark to extort
gambling winnings from.
I couldn’t pull off
a fur wrap.