Midnight At The Black Flamingo Poem by Randolph Larsen
Midnight At The Black Flamingo
Duck below this loud marquee's
brassiest rune of rain transfixed
by dumb reflection on a drunken face...
What gives?
Some fagged out cheesecake
slides dizzying down the grinding light
& sizzles raw - O stark relief!
Bop that old magnetic lingo:
It's midnight at the Black Flamingo!
Watch those nacreous thighs divest
the glassiest pool of dark desires,
bump with hips & spectral plumes
of breath this neon matrix,
strut
French as the rough rain's kiss her hour's
each electric such & such -
The night's a punchline old & blue:
It's midnight at the Black Flamingo!
So hunch beneath some nimbused rune's
sassiest lip to thigh and gape,
you traveling salesman mute & cold.
Rain slants...
What shimmying shape
what fluent gesture deft & clear's
the dirtiest joke you'll ever know?
Stare beyond your ******** stare:
It's midnight at the Black Flamingo!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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1/10/2026 1:34:45 PM # 1.0.0
see edit - - RL (also the asterisks may be cowardly, but I 'd like to finally have the poem read. Your imagination may fill in whatever blanks, and on another perusal there appear to be many.) . Thank you for reading.