Sweet Melissa
-------------
she slithers sidling up to the station
where the brigadoon is pouring water
on another spiraling fire
telco, weather, ice, and snow
she's just the cherry on top
of a swirling air-head corporate epicenter
cigarette skank whore from another dimension
with young sparky the dog boy in tow
arfing approval and the chirpings
of whatever she wants to hear
sufficiently hacked down
for the chic chick on the go
but truly hacked down for the breadth
of a tiny attention span
and an even smaller black pit of a soul
my head spins from your stale marlboros
like the evil stench of the decaying borg hive
hexagonal paper cube of my sweat and spittle
but you'll not have my blood, too
foul rotting wench, flying high above the cattle
cackling and yammering on, as the black cape flaps
she's in charge without a clue
flying free in the corporate plane
without a flight plan of the mind