Sunset Strip

I am your pinball machine at dawn, she said.
I am your dashboard at dusk, said he.
Each grew crazy by the other's light.
Life nor love never dwindled their lust.
She woke to his hands on her hips.
He traveled highways through her at night.
At 65, he died young.
She turned his body to ash,
powdered him on, belly and neck.
Her sweat smeared his kisses to coal.
At night she lay in the yard
her navel arched to the sky,
a dashboard hung in the stars-
the needle still read 65.


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