Corvids in Coco Chanel
Shiny things, shiny things, big eyed girls
staring through Tiffany windows, noses pressed to glass
watering mouths and greedy hands, wanting to grab.
Walk the streets with pretty smiles spread wide,
heads cocked to sides. Got men in talons, wrapped up,
tight. Looking for prey, swooping season is in.
Bad signs, bad signs, they walk with dark clouds
hanging over their heads, black cats cross their paths
and they laugh. Unlucky girls dragging men
through the thorns behind them. They never
asked for them to follow, like the bad luck trailing
with a thinning string. They gorge themselves on death.
Too smart, too smart, those tricky things they are.
Raised brow, turned head, pursed lips, clacking nails.
You can hear 'em, throwing voices, playing little games
with boys from down the block. the laugh as they trip
themselves to try and impress. Black eyes hard, smart.
Scarves flapping, they make tools from broken boys.
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