Travels of a Young Woman
I stand here, atop this hill,
With the view of castles and
Humble bungalows where children sleep
I walk down this stretch of dirt path
Collecting thoughts like puzzle pieces
I place them gently beneath my feet
These puzzled thoughts are what keep my feet in step
I write them down for my audience and
They stare slacked jawed as an opium eater at my words that
Dance for them like awkward Geishas
The town smells like live stock and incense
I stroll into the saloon with the naked woman
Her eyes are pools of melted bronze and she writhes like timid flames
I whisper to myself,
“So, this must be the burning passion I’ve been searching for”
-Paola C. Tavarez
With the view of castles and
Humble bungalows where children sleep
I walk down this stretch of dirt path
Collecting thoughts like puzzle pieces
I place them gently beneath my feet
These puzzled thoughts are what keep my feet in step
I write them down for my audience and
They stare slacked jawed as an opium eater at my words that
Dance for them like awkward Geishas
The town smells like live stock and incense
I stroll into the saloon with the naked woman
Her eyes are pools of melted bronze and she writhes like timid flames
I whisper to myself,
“So, this must be the burning passion I’ve been searching for”
-Paola C. Tavarez