And here, Kodak picturesque, my love,
the streets do not end with a damsel taken
her legs splayed and small bills scattered like leaves.
In this strange place, darling,
we dream drugged yellow haze and burlesque shows.
It is so beautiful here I don’t ever want to land.
Someone brings flowers to me in cameo
and the credits fade, with you the dead agnostic
myself left to catch crystals
of methamphetamine cold in your breath.
*from Kristina's chapbook "The Traffic in Women" from Dancing Girl Press