New york.
Writers.
Actresses on Broadway.
Cigars rolled on the thighs of
Chinese virgins, deep in the heart
of China town, where few dare to tread.
Her leg is up, stayups, underwear from Crepe
de chine. Witchy high heels...
cigarette smoke rising to the roof
like spirits. I knock on the table like a
spiritist. Do they hear me?