She was neon pink with a short thin neck
Sticking from her belly.
I can't remember her name.
She has this funny way
Of helping you forget.
Memory does recall, however,
The smell.
The rotten stench of death by ember,
Over endless hazy nights.
I remember
The glow,
And the way the orange coals
Roared,
Reflecting in his spectacles
Like a midnight sunset.
Flames burning in the black of his eyes
And then their gentle drift
Into darkness.
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