Beauty will get you killed

It isn't suitable for this world
of regurgitant paintings,
or musical
chores

Beauty is deadly

It reminds us of a place
where we finally
belong

A beautiful place
we are certain
is there,
but which is so
impossibly
true,
only the recklessly
honest & mad
dare
believe in it

A mortally-beautiful world

In which there is floating

A golden, 4-dimensional,
black-and-white
city,
through which cars roll
like music
on streets of glistening
chrome

Where the breeze sings
like a bird,
or a half-melted
trumpet

Through streets of pure purpose,

Where streetlights of diamonds

Illuminate sidewalks

And buses of gold...

       The smoldering stroll

       The beatnik couture

Trapped in an elevator
of endless
desire,
smoking unfiltered
gypsies
down to the abyss

We are riding bubbles
like stolen
cars
up through the cathedral-like
reaches
of a glass of champagne

Forever locked to our
guilt
in a retrograde
selfie

Where pleasures dance
on the ends
of our
fingers like needles

And our hopes drawing
blood

Did you swallow the keys
to your Rock & Roll
boyfriend?

Does he run like an angel?

Is he wearing a film
of cellophane
leather?

Will the purr pills suffice?

Will we pay in the morning?

Shall I leave the engine running?

Throw the gun in the river?

Do you think the motel
room will take
diamonds?

Whose car is this,
anyway?

The runabee hitman?

The one-away killer?

How many rubies did you actually take?

Is there some way around it?

Who are we
to find ourselves captured
on the celluloid
street?

Would you like a new pillow?

Are there raincoats in Heaven?

Our dreams have been laced
with too many
flowers

Beauty is deadly

The shadows have come

©Nathan Payne
January 2024