These knights wore blue jeans,
and leather jackets,
and courted,
the looking-glass queens.
They speak not in prose,
but in their pocket a rose,
to give to the girl,
of their fancy.
Their duels to the death,
of fist-fights and pocket knives,
are fought,
in the back alleyways.
The highway-men rob,
convenience store clerks,
and run at the sight of the cops.
And the looking-glass queens
adorned with perfume and lipstick,
they gossip,
as they always did.
As they watch their men die,
under the light,
of the cold streetlamps.
thus are their lives,
as they,
live and fight,
and in the end are met,
with the icy embrace,
of an early grave.
