Arsenic Lobster poetry journal
Issue Nineteen
Spring 2009
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Blame it on the Sun
Linda Lerner

she’s the one with Betty Boop eyes
interrupts your coffee stained meeting
apologizing profusely---
hip hop rarin' to please, shinny apple faced
sends you careening into the strutting youth
trapped beneath pot bellied years,
her eyes riding over your face like soft bells
like child’s fingers, and
it feel good, doesn’t it, to guide her,
I’m young she says with a toss of her head
a  smile, shining bright sun youth
you bask in as during those beachy days
ultra violet rays injected the harm
it bronzed over, and you
golden boy of Brighten summers
never felt so good:
she is the moment before
the sun burns ice cold: burns deadly

About Linda Lerner

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