Walls act like they don't see a stuffed

lion on the bandstand, or her,

an angel painted by the old masters,

sitting behind an upright piano

and holding a blue cocktail.

 

Love enters smoking a cheap cigarette,

wearing size 14 shoes, a smile

exploding like nails from a suicide

bomber and all for this silicone

Madonna sipping a blue cocktail.

 

The motherfucker's full of shit

and a month later he wants nothing

to do with her. She moves in

with sadness, obesity

and a recipe for a blue cocktail.

 

Dreams slip quietly away,

everything becomes empty,

until darkness smothers her

but the world merely shrugs

spinning in the light of a blue cocktail.