| Marlene Dietrich remembers the night of the Marilyn Monroe Productions press conference, New York City, January 1955 I wanted to be that trace of scarlet lipstick when you arrived, tipsy, a bit chartreuse a subdued platinum angel, a white mink stole. I am at heart—Come up for a drink— a gentleman. You, a question here to seduce, a pink thought traced by scarlet lipstick a deer drawn to a salt lick. I am the brick- back, brick-thrown widow of a caboose. I lift my black veil. I drop my black mink. To the bird, flown—we toast with a clink. You created ‘the girl.’ “Their golden goose is now a scarlet smudge.” Your lips stick to the wine glass and all I can do is wink out a song, the tricks of an aging chanteuse. You call a cab and grab your white mink while I play my saw, and all I can think is I am not a myth a recluse who will recuse you to remain a trace of scarlet lipstick caught on the collar of a white mink. Copyright © 2014 by Matthew Hittinger. Used with permission of the author. |
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