it was late

glistening reflections

of cinematic beauties

on my black

high-heel 

shoes

reeling

 

he was waiting

an hour away by 

automobile

in that country community

of broken metal yards and

trash can houses

 

in a dark 

dog-hair living room

 

I stumbled on the exit 

route

midnight behind me

hands on my lower back

curves and 

wondering

 

what I see in these

black high-heel

shoes-

 

towers of never

with those old-fashioned

windows

where you can see 

through 

the glass

 

see

their lives

living 

writing out

scripts for the same 

blatant movie

 

a woman

washing rags

blood and stains

in the kitchen sink

 

a man 

tying

leather laces 

next to a

newspaper briefcase- 

 

on the ground 

looking up

it got late

 

I felt

tall

but not 

tall

enough 

 

to surpass 

that black, glistening 

never

of my lover's  

window-screen