Twixt the greyscale:
Brasseur’s Bande
à part bravura,
last breath-taking fin
stade perimeter
also harbouring
one transfixed Theresa,
fedora-clad Cupid
w/ a Chi town tom-
the barrels of her pupils
have fired their salvo
Gitanes tip brandished
at end of burnt lips-
challenging anyone w/ a current
to ‘commit that indiscretion’;
to lift hands from clenched
chest, raise the rivering velvet
on whether her glance
was live or just
venting blanks.

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