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You in your pink nylon dress,
Me in my cheap corduroy suit,
Nicotine gaunt and holding onto myself.
As you count the minutes,
I count the dog ends and remember
Every last cigarette,
Each bitter fist of smoke,
I watched your stricken beauty,
As you inhaled my deadness of soul,
Sucking your girlhood through a
Milkshake straw, I knew each
Act on your shadow stage, every kiss a lie,
A placebo for the heart, trampled
Beneath the jackboot
Of your blonde haired Germanic youth.
These words in remembrance of
Your pink nylon dress,
Ash smudged at the hip.
I held you with scorched fingers
And laughed with the heart
Of every ashtray.