Carterenda has a smile that is slippery

Her smile slides over her teeth

Her teeth and lips are ideal flesh and bone

Flesh full lips beneath beautiful eyes across shiney lovely bones

Doe sweet eyes

Cinnamon skin some freckles and her hair silken from gold to black and around every fusilli

Her smile conceals all that she knows to be true.  She is wise and glistens.

I inhale her moisture and perfume

I am enchanted

She is flawless

She likes the horses, she likes the track.  She likes champagne and caviar and she’s adept at at concealing her distaste for the gringo

She wears a loose dress of subtle color yet her shape is obvious

She believes her hips to be powerful and her lips to be flowers

She is correct

Her lips pull back like you’ve no idea for a grin playing havoc with my belly too and she barely puffs from a long black stem with a cigarette at it’s end.  Her tongue escapes behind her lips and there is a tiny pop and a puff of smoke.  Her lips pull back again from tooths in wonderland.

She looks at me as though she’s about to ridicule.

I wish I was in a supermarket from my childhood.  Smelling the onions and grapefruits while marveling the glossy floor and symmetry everywhere.  Cucumbers.  The bread aisle pungent with yeast and grains and jars of mustard offending my pre-adolescent hyper senses.

Colors so vivid, I wanted to puke.

Pastries with jelly centers enveloped in loose glossy cellophane on shiny disposable tin foil trays…… all iridescent….rows of cereals, sauces and cans of everything.  Detergents and cleansers with shiny blue green orange logos.  Dirty sacks of potatoes that mother could make anything out of.

What does she want?  I’m really not sure what to do here.

Carterenda sparkles

I would take her home to do my best

Drinks for my friends.

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