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Hope was just here. So sorry you missed her. I saw her leave with Love’s little sister. You should have known it the night you caught her kissing on Fortune’s red-headed daughter.
Went out with my ladies, daughters of the eighties, children of the second-wave. Danced without our shoes on, woke up with a bruise on my neck I can’t explain away. And she said, “All I really want is a salty and responsive lover who won’t stay the night.” I gladly volunteered, took my cue and disappeared into the pixelated morning light.
All of you rich girls clutching your purses, sipping through straws and mouthing the verses. All of the poor boys, they all adore you. Gave it a shot but couldn’t afford you.
Woke up in the sunlight saw your future fading like the colour in your favorite jeans. Packed up all your shit and told your mother you were moving to the city for the music scene. Multiply your prospects by zeroes on your paychecks, still you end up in the red. Hours in the basement, yet somehow your Graceland’s Rhythm of the Saints instead.
Hope was just here. So sorry you missed her. I heard you never learnt how to kiss her. Love’s Little Sister, quite the sensation. I saw them leave here pink with flirtation.
Tomorrow always comes too soon. We danced all night in darkened rooms.