Under City Lights

a girl perches on a curb like a parakeet
her yellow hair and lime green fur-lined
coat rush together in the haze of smoke
from her cigarette until the car comes and
she leaps — now like an Amazonian frog — and I
know the boy inside is her lover with his
tattooed arms around her now his lips deep
in her yellow hair until he tastes the sweet
sweet skin and, forgetting the traffic now, reaches
for her breast I can almost feel his fingers as
she reaches over, turns the stereo up, and leans
back into his desire and I turn away from my window
flushed with sex and shame, and wondering
how many cars I have let drive past me because I
was frightened by the brightness of their headlights
in my eyes

Summer Lopez

If you've any comments on this poem, Summer Lopez would be pleased to hear from you.