Raspberry Poem by Tsani Jones

She has her own art,
Making him crazy...

Little bubblegum pop star smile
And the way every word
Escapes her lips
Like a rope with a loop on the end
Just for him to hang onto.

Sweet sugar melted down
Like liquid cocaine candy
In the vein of the
Formerly neat and decaffeinated.

God. She makes such a mess of things.

He knew where he was,
All cosmic order
Until she pushed the envelope
Stacked so precise,
Tens and twenties of
Lust and illusion.

She plies her trade
From the corner coffee shop
Like a Wall Street tycoon,

A buyer and seller of souls,
A moment of youth
A lifetime of emotive intoxication,
And he's the only client.

It's all her show,
From curtain rise
To final exit
But never, never enough.

She has his fix-
A little love drug lord,
Feet propped on a chair
Lit on lattes, sex,
And half-read Kerouac.

Sack dress of tiger lilies
Neck blooming of jasmine
With stars burning in her eyes
And roses on her lips.

She might be late,
But she's always on time.