I hear the noises in the silence I carry in my pocket,
coated in lint and melted chocolate.
I am a dirty girl with a dirty mind
because that is the best kind.
I see what the cat sees
in his golden eyed world.
In the darkness I am called away,
via the howling of the N train,
carrying home the disenchanted.
A secretary by day, and a furry cat by night.
There is a job you hang at the door,
and a noose by the coatrack.
Step quickly to the side,
look for the winding maze.
Standing on a rickety chair to change the lightbulb,
a run in your stockings
then on to the other life.
Modem to modem the call of a new breed,
with electric eyes and silicon souls,
there is love in the dimly caught glow.
Lips parted and light another cigarette,
death curls easy around your head,
and they say it tastes of peaches.
Dreaming of the circus bears,
tunes to dance to
that are never played for you.
A twenty-one gun salute!
If you go out in a hail of bullets.
But it's all fantasy,
and you go to sleep on a bare mattress
as dawn peaks over a sullen city,
with lipstick on her collar.
Taking what you want --
but there is nothing really you want.
Except the chance
to be a big big ship
moving from port to port,
the eastern starboard,
and now you matter still
as you drift further to sea
to see
a dirty girl with a dirty mind.
the worst kind of dirty.
subversive solutions and no hope,
but a love for the champagne words,
and the rich rich light
that falls
on all.