Queen Ghost
Some people I just never meet.
They appear. They astonish. They attract.
They repel. They allude to a life - a style -
in, no doubt, inaccessible, yet charmed appartments.
Out on the street, they appear only after midnight,
Call themselves, “Queen This” or “Queen That.”
Unlike, perhaps, others, I am happy these folks
Are in the neigborhood. Among night hawks,
I am told, when these gentle ladies hit the clubs
- extended dark nails with slender, fox glove whips -
The swiveling manner of their dance is so electric
Even the most jaded rise, jump, get slapped hard
Then absolutely wriggle.
Shop window, Valencia, between 20th & 21st, San Francisco.