This guest contribution comes from Melissa Parietti. Melissa is a writer and finance professional from Long Island. This is her first work published online by an independent journal, with more to come!
When she’s not educating herself about investments, she enjoys learning about economics, and everything else too.
Gold melts in the July heat gold sizzles on the frying pan
Buttered with thick pedestrian sweat
falling from greedy foreheads
dollars disappear into atmosphere.
Flood the streets with yolk
the morning rush soils all the aprons on avenue Q
everyone joins in and smears the egg yolk
adds the butter
drinks the tipsy
orange juice: her hair is tangled
just a mess of souryellow
All day long she has to look out the window where the girls in the white skirts have legs that teeter on high heel stilts. They wear bags that unbalance their reedy frames.
They date men in angles who carry a brief case, who sling silver on their wrists.
Her diner light is yellow
it glows so sallow
ontop of her skin
Her pants are too tight and drowning her thighs wish themselves away. They melt
like the butter on the pan.
She sweats money
eats the brilliant, oppressive sun
it crawls into her mouth and extracts gold and puts it into the sky
it make the haze and mirage warp her July mind
it makes gold
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