Marietta laughs too loud and drinks too much and her perfume stains the air for hours
her clothes are a riot of color and her eyes and hair are flashing billboards
but she’s pale fawn underneath
and she smiles and sips her beer and gazes at you like a new exhibit at the zoo
she may steal your wallet
if you look deep into her eyes you will find that window shuttered
that house standing vacant
her opinions are strident but change with the channel
she walks in the rain and everybody knows her
yet nobody misses her
Marietta you have rode that merry go round so many times
when you finally caught that bright ring
did it turn your wrist green
because it was only brass after all



About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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3 Responses to Marietta

  1. M. Zane McClellan says:

    You gotta like the girl, even as a part of you feels a bit sorry for her. Nice poem. Peace. ~ Michael

  2. chimerapoet says:

    Reblogged this on Chimera Poetry and commented:

    One year ago….

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