For Miss Alister's Birthday
REAL ESTATE
Chi O gots her earth, wind, and fiery elements all in a filigree’d dither. Vandy said no, Emory, too, ‘saps said come on down, cher, we got the ship out on the foam for you, baby. Cher she was; cher she did, all 5’7” of her flaxen, waxy sugarbaby self. Nestlings need not apply to the temple—she was looking for daddy all the way.
Bristol Crème was first to ponder, last to lurk. He always be takin’ his time, self-management learned the hard way. Tether Dubonnet was Tutor the First. Gams to heaven, pert pertness into the Beyond. A better first teacher they never was. BC was oft to ponder the dereliction of his ways, but never of a Sabbath. He knew his God, and she weren’t no plunderer. Crinkle in the eyes when she see BC comin’.
Lurk turned to committed desire: this will I taste, this will I have. Chi O babbled in lunch lines with the big Boogaloo, turned a smart sassy ass out the door his way, but sassy ass was assessin’—this weren’t the Big Giveaway. Cool Hand Luke counted eggs; Chi had her own inventory in mind, and BC was on the bubble: he just might have to play in to the Dance.
Comes late Autumn. Big Dance party down on West Capitol, steps of the Governor’s Mansion. BC’s gotta uncle twelve floors up in the Lamar Life, spies Ms O in all her post-Labor Day splendor, hot and bothered with a dandy givin’ her Mr. White on Ms. Rice. Sticky stuff indeed. Pouncin’ time, thinks B, Superman couldn’t fly half as fast down the Lamar stairs as he did. He was ponce’d in black tux, tie loose, cummerbund flashing. Literally flashing, they was lights in the folds. Tell me I ain’t Michael Jackson in his pretty days, Flashy thinks to himself.
Chi catches the breeze of that (de)scent, twiddles east of Mr. Sticky, west to the flowering B. It’s a big breeze on the downtown bounce, all bigboy whirling, fancypants Cassandra Hometown Girl Wilson-sexy with her new moons shining.
O: “Thought you’d never—”
B: “You thought?”
O: “I’m just sayin’, freshman comp ain’t exactly the—”
B: “And why not?”
O: “Gotta point. You got anything else?”
Breeze caught the lilt of that hemline. As he’d suspected, Tether-gams indeed. Seconds from Marilyn standing over the gusty vent, she spun, headed courtside to the Blue. Centuries could not have done better for such fine evolution. B nixed all the other Tutors—he was down for the count.
Chi O gots her earth, wind, and fiery elements all in a filigree’d dither. Vandy said no, Emory, too, ‘saps said come on down, cher, we got the ship out on the foam for you, baby. Cher she was; cher she did, all 5’7” of her flaxen, waxy sugarbaby self. Nestlings need not apply to the temple—she was looking for daddy all the way.
Bristol Crème was first to ponder, last to lurk. He always be takin’ his time, self-management learned the hard way. Tether Dubonnet was Tutor the First. Gams to heaven, pert pertness into the Beyond. A better first teacher they never was. BC was oft to ponder the dereliction of his ways, but never of a Sabbath. He knew his God, and she weren’t no plunderer. Crinkle in the eyes when she see BC comin’.
Lurk turned to committed desire: this will I taste, this will I have. Chi O babbled in lunch lines with the big Boogaloo, turned a smart sassy ass out the door his way, but sassy ass was assessin’—this weren’t the Big Giveaway. Cool Hand Luke counted eggs; Chi had her own inventory in mind, and BC was on the bubble: he just might have to play in to the Dance.
Comes late Autumn. Big Dance party down on West Capitol, steps of the Governor’s Mansion. BC’s gotta uncle twelve floors up in the Lamar Life, spies Ms O in all her post-Labor Day splendor, hot and bothered with a dandy givin’ her Mr. White on Ms. Rice. Sticky stuff indeed. Pouncin’ time, thinks B, Superman couldn’t fly half as fast down the Lamar stairs as he did. He was ponce’d in black tux, tie loose, cummerbund flashing. Literally flashing, they was lights in the folds. Tell me I ain’t Michael Jackson in his pretty days, Flashy thinks to himself.
Chi catches the breeze of that (de)scent, twiddles east of Mr. Sticky, west to the flowering B. It’s a big breeze on the downtown bounce, all bigboy whirling, fancypants Cassandra Hometown Girl Wilson-sexy with her new moons shining.
O: “Thought you’d never—”
B: “You thought?”
O: “I’m just sayin’, freshman comp ain’t exactly the—”
B: “And why not?”
O: “Gotta point. You got anything else?”
Breeze caught the lilt of that hemline. As he’d suspected, Tether-gams indeed. Seconds from Marilyn standing over the gusty vent, she spun, headed courtside to the Blue. Centuries could not have done better for such fine evolution. B nixed all the other Tutors—he was down for the count.
Labels: blueing
posted by murat11 at 7:42 AM
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