by David Clarke
She's a delicious lick
of electric guitar,
a nasty rhythm
and a jangling hook,
stirring you to overflow
with soaring heartache
and fleeting joy.
But to feel her pulse,
plunk down more
than a couple crumpled bills.
She'll want you to bleed a little too.
Showing posts with label David Clarke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Clarke. Show all posts
Sunday, September 8, 2013
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