Alevera Throwaway Lines

pretty face
stupid man
smart once
brains gone

New York
loves shamrocks
Furtive looks
shame hard knocks
She tells me
to move
I jump,
how high
She has me
in the palm
Of her hands,
fortunes read
Like
psychic bombs

Eating green mango strips
in Decembertime chill,
scrunching her pretty face
in sour buds kill.
Wind blows her hair.
She pulls a band from her wrist
to tie her tresses.
Her dimple sinks.
I die again.