All That Glitters Here

Transcendent glamour! Transgender woman-man-

Manhattan! See her stride, expansive, through

the night – as unaffordably expensive as the slyest

courtesan. The ruby red of Stop, emerald green of Go,

citrine gold of Slow – traffic lights, to her, do not occur

to give direction: they’re there to lend their flair to all

the ropy strands of necklaces she profligately dares

to drip from her rare layered volupté as we sway

blinking through her dazzling avenues and neon Hydra

limbs. Hear that choir of sourceless laughter in the park?

That’s her voice, of course: well, one of many (clear

and hoarse) that she acquires to seduce and to conspire

after dark. They howl or croon or growl – but always sell.

Stay up all night amid her jeweled light – you’ll be sold
as well. All that glitters here is always gold.

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