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Summer #1
There are silver spoons turned into rings
and blankets the color of the Caspian Sea
that lay dormant waiting for the third eye.
So the teenage girls hold out delicate wrists
with half-empty charm bracelets showing
what they have left to offer.
Before they break their Chakras into pieces
leaving them scattered like bread crumbs
to find their way home
From nights in the Valley with lost boys
indentured to a life of heavy breathing
and the same eight punk rock records.
As the moon is called back to the shores
of Oz they stumble home gathering up the
Atala, Vitala, Sutala to glue them back
together with dreams of satin toed stilettos,
butter colored tutus and french vanilla frosting.
Only to awaken to shameless crows
offering them silver spoons and plastic charms.
