Christina Galioto

i once knew a man who had his heart stolen by a rider with high heels on. he told me

. . . You bring out the Cosa Nostra in me. The fiery Sicilian in me. The inevitable tommy gun

I remember her tattoos and sharpened claws As dead presidents shuffled through her fingers like a deck of cards. She’d

Morality collapsed like a smoker out of breath Crushed under their feet and the girls just laughed The con gets

I remember myself and my grass stained knees Playing in the country with big city dreams, My voice sweet amongst

When the world is everything but magic