From twenty feet away she looked
like a wayward angel, a silent screen
It girl strutting her stuff and proud
of it. Up close and personal, plastic
surgery scars suggested a prototype
for Bride of Frankenstein too ugly
for a screen test or animation.
Had been rode hard and put away
wet, as in a bloody mess, and was
never quite the same after.
Planned on making up for time lost by
returning all the favors she had received
in kind. She wasn’t sure how it would
all work out but one thing was certain,
five alarms wouldn’t be enough to put
out all the flames.
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