ODD HOURS AT NOON / I

Excuse me miss, are you lookin for somethin?

At the odd hours at noon
Murmurs can be heard from her room
Murmurs turn into speeches
And speeches into cries

And her hand then reaches
Her hand then cradles
Those murmurs, speeches, cries
And then it crushes them

She then asks it
"What will you do
With the dust you made?"

Her hand answers with a slap
Her face, now covered in dust
Contoured and caked up
Her lips blooming

At the odd hours at noon
(Scatting)



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