Steve Madden Poem by Pierre Rausch

The gesture was so direct, that she almost spit it
She did not want to think about it
She did not have the time to type it out
The pavement is cracking with the fever
Exhausted and stared straight ahead of her
Into the lavatory and read it there
Near the shoulder and she ran
Through the thinning crowd
Steve Madden glowing pale colors
And a variety of styles
She can't use the radio or anything
And so she blocked off the channels
Insomniacs share a certain mystique
I have a feeling about her, that left eye
She scrubbed and dressed and felt reassured
With a certain dusky, unhealthy palor
Chorus
Repeat
Chorus
Repeat