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she is shrill and tawdry

as a gaudy ankle tattoo,

an unwise tequila decision,

in the throes of the morning after,

etched on a barefoot backup country singer,

lustily shaking a tambourine

at the side of the stage.

 

her high strung brittle beauty

carries an early use-by date.

her hair a cloud of sunshine,

her laugh bitter at the edges,

she never thinks much past tomorrow

and is destined to curdle like cream

left out too long on a summer day.

 

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