There are women who blink too much. They blink at you because they want to enthrall you, engage you, seduce you with long cat eyes. You see them in bad, run down places where run down people go to hurt some more. Like in smoky bars that burn your insides with cheap cigarettes and stale booze. Like in all night diners with blinking neon signs that tell you of Pyrex coffee poured into red lipstick cups. Sometimes they are too old, or too young. Sometimes, too fat, or too thin. Sometimes they wear too much make-up, or too little perfume. Sometimes when they look at you, fast and wanting, you run as fast as you can. Then there are the times you walk to them; then walk away under the morning sun, feeling desperately hurt by the wounded ones with too much blink in their female eyes.
Poems of the Week by Robin, Julian and Frank
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