In his sweet polished shoes
the look of mahogany
he sees his reflection
and is mesmerized
he sees the blazon throne of power
the pinnacle of glory
the banner of his beauty
and the means to achieve all
and also, he sees her,
a perk for the lofty flight with
her soft sensuous curves
and her fine cut breasts
all this, and us too
he carries up his mountain
a throne to build
from his Solomon vision
but on the echoing tarmac
tears of defeat rain heavy
before the raging thunder
of abandonment
her shirt she rips off,
the scarred and scorned breasts
she frames with these words-
"you don't see me anymore!"
and we all fall off his mountain
we fall hard
she falls harder
he's still falling
