Crush
I want to like the girl with the ukulele;
she’s like pink frosted cupcakes and champagne.
Her red lipstick smeared napkins
are stuck between the pages of
The Portable Dorothy Parker,
she carries in her velvet purse.
She knows how to Charleston with sparklers
in her hands, and I like the shape of her smirk
when she sings in French.
We tangoed on the side of a mountain road,
while the orange sliced moon slid down
a star speckled sky. I kissed her Moulin Rouged lips
even after she smoked her pack of strawberry cigarettes.
I want to wander the cobblestoned streets of Paris
with her, and her ballet soled feet—and I don’t even love the city
(anymore).
Marisa Silva-Dunbar’s work has been published in Pink Plastic House, IceFloe Press, Mineral Lit Mag, Rising Phoenix Review, and Ghost Heart Lit. Marisa is the founder and EIC of Neon Mariposa Magazine. She has work forthcoming in Sledgehammer Lit, and Better Than Starbucks Magazine and the Eyes Wide Shut anthology “Denmark.” You can find her on Twitter and Instagram @thesweetmaris.
Chantarelle's Notebook 