She Thinks She has …

In the hightower spotlight,
Snow and rock falling past
Once blonde hair onto
Slim, bare shouldres.
She has her own garbage can booked
In a special, reserved corner of hell;
But that must wait.

It’s not about history,
However impressive, it’s
About now, the show,
Adrenaline and the
Ten thousand points of light …
The ones many people never see.

When the fork-tailed
‘phistpheles angel comes,
No doubt, she’ll struggle, cry,
Plead, argue, go
For his damned eyes,
With broken nails and all
The spite she thinks she has.

But, she made a deal,
Is fine with that,
And between now and then
She’ll pay for powder,
Devour the music,
Give the naked fool everything,
Everything he thinks he needs.