On the East side of Vancouver
In Bleak House Alley peppered with cardboard creatures,
A crude Cinderella, cracked and creased with age,
Candling the night Weaves phantom dreams
In the pale twilight.
Breathing in foggy remnants of second hand wishes,
She churns them and burns them
Under hot buttered streetlights.
Drinking in the horizon, gulping it like wine.
On this hot thirsty night of no reprisals,
She sways in drunken repose.
Skin, weather beaten, hangs in pockets of leather
Chafing the edge of night.She doesn’t remember when the rain started
But she’s certain it shows no sign of letting up soon,
Each random drop relentlessly
Pursuing the razor’s edge of the one in front of it.
This Cinderella broke her mirror years ago,
Lives in a fantasy world, tThinks she’s still beautiful.
Her torn mouth twitches, groans into a grin.
Yellowed cracked teeth
Semi glinting in the broken bits of moonlight
Decorating the one shoe she wears.
The other foot bleeding, weeping like a blind eye.
She limps along this highway of tears
Searching for her prince knowing full well he will not come.
Busted bicycle wheel dreams,
Wasted chants and wishes,
Unanswered prayers and rituals,
Broken bowling pins littering the alleys
On the East side of Vancouver.
© 2012 Candice James