Banana Juice

All kinds of new content is on the way. Beware. Here's a poem and picture.

Trouble with the Dolls

Girls are turning into glass.

My girlfriend turned last week.
I hadn’t seen her in a couple of days,
so I was surprised by her appearance.
We tried, at first, to ignore it. We kissed.
Her lips were nipply cold.

I looked into her eyes,

all the way back through
the workings of her brain.
Carefully, I changed
the subject to love.
No position seemed to work.
“But I must feel,” I said.
“Don’t break me,” she said.
We haven’t made love since.

My breath will soon

fog my lover’s hips.
I’ll polish her with gentle,
dainty silk.  Foam padded
lingerie made of composite,
space-age materials guaranteed
to protect all holdings might
help, but she refuses to

indulge in what I like. Her

sharp tears nick my fingers.