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This work is licensed
under a Creative Commons
Attribution-NonCommercial
4.0 International License.

Postmodern Village
est. 1999
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Dude, He was All Like "Glitter, Glitter" When He Touched Me
by Francine DuBois

the prima donna primps
in the unisex restroom,
large beyond reason,
batting vacant eyelids
awaiting peacock blue
sparkles and pouting
collagen-thick lips
yearning for moist
propaganda-red lipstick.

he comes out of the restroom
(as if he really rested in there)
and taps me lightly on the shoulder.
"glitter, glitter,
that is all we are in god's hollywood eyes.
just meaningless specks of glitter
dependent on each other for impact."

i glance up at him, wondering
why the revelations were falling
on me like a freshly-cut pearl necklace,
prophecies and explanations bouncing
on the tile floor. "when you find a single
piece of glitter, don't you wonder where
it came from? where its siblings are?
or do you even notice?"

and he flings his feather boa
and stomps off in his six inch heels,
leopard-print shattering over his mass.

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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