A MANHATTAN T.V.

You shaved
after phone sex
for the flesh potted gal/pal
planting Lola on stage
doing Tallulah Bankhead
imitations
after Body and Soul
played on century old ivories,
Persian cats
slide by hot red
lipstick smeared
on you
with five exclamations
points as finger paints you
on uncensored night music
running out
of thorny imagination
in your five scattered
web face lifts in the mirror
still hides your sideburns.