Ruth said…

parting the orange-sherbet hair
from the paste of make-up and sweat
that lined her face, smiling
with the apple red lips
that cocooned her
Snow White teeth, picking at
the retro jumpsuit whose buttons
had slipped undone during the evening,
with words promising to tickle
your tongue with her broad
southern Irish accent,

“Your blonde hair makes you
look like an angel but I see
the devil behind your eyes.”

The words poured like silk
caramel into my ear.
There they rest in my mind,
where the cynical cold
has set them to a crisp.

In bitter moments,
I may break off a segment
and nibble on its sweetness.