Goth's journey

(written after a brief pause at a Sebastopol Stop sign)

Goth's Journey
by Stephen D. Gross

:beauty:
Its so odd to see a Goth in early morning
on a corner in a sunny country town
Under a cornflower sky, dressed in Torquemada Black,
fairy-ringed by fields of jade and emerald
A Shadowy Golem, she slinks from her grotto
Malamute circles under eyes of Arctic ice
Watching for the light to change
Chains a-clanking, she bleeds murky drama -
A pungent bubble-gum scented fog
follows her to the cafe
where her silver spoon tinkles musically
through the spindrift of her morning latte,
and her butter-slick bagel, cold eye staring,
winks at the streaming shafts of sepulchral light
Now the cell phone in her Gucci, chirping like a dying sparrow
caressed by gold-ringed gypsy fingers
Ashleigh's voice whispers “where’s my homework?”
She knows her Maltese Cross won't save her
from the wrath of Mrs. Higgins
She hides in her velvet dungeon
overlooking the jacuzzi
high above the misting valley
above the town called Santa Rosa,
where the pools are always full