Trail of Glitter

from by The Bitter Poet



It all started when Miss Stella Blades wasn’t available for the gig, she said “call Miss Bunny Trouble.” I called Bunny, she said no.
Bunny said “call Miss Bambi Guns.” I called Bambi. Bambi said “sorry Hon, not my kind of gig.” But Bambi said
“Baby, who you really ought to call is Miss Sparkle Penny…”
And I did.

Miss Sparkle Penny stumbles into the restaurant
Even today I can see her move toward me in her dirty blonde bouffant
As she struggles with her little girl toys, she says “yeh, yeh” just like the hip-hop boys
She shines as she slides into her seat
So green, so bright, so small, so in-demand
She says “I think it’s beautiful, what you have done”
Then she goes away to put the rest of her make up on
But in my eyes, on my cheek, in my food, on my drink,
In my script, on my naked hip… She left a trail of glitter

That night at the show Miss Sparkle Penny dances around, she throws her clothes down
She flicks her head at me to give her more, and in the sound the crowd goes crazy
After the show she stays late, we talk close… I'm not weak but I failed to keep my distance
Then a weekend at the beach, two nights in my room, a kiss at the yoga center
And in my hair, on my chest, in my bed, on my desk,
In my lips, on my naked hip… She left a trail of glitter

She meets me for dinner down on Avenue A, she’s got a short black dress and an awkward sashay
She wants me to see that her clothes are all clean, I ask about her necklace, she says “someone gave it to me…”
We walk to her temporary home on Avenue D, in the wet July heat we kiss in the street
Then she looks me in the eye and she says “I want to date other guys” Then she lets go and I know it’s over
But in my ears, on my couch, in my sink, on my towel,
In my spit, on my naked hip… She left a trail of glitter

I wish I could say it’s all over but I’ve learned my past carries forward
I try to date new women, but I can’t get close to any new girls because I keep finding out the hard way that women who DON'T wear glitter,
they KNOW they don’t wear glitter

On 3rd and 2nd, on 6 and D
In the back garden on 10 when we got dessert for free
At the corn-dog stand on the Coney Island boardwalk, on the lawn behind the stage when she got confused by my jaw
On the frozen margaritas at the Bryant Park Café, in the chalk at the trapeze school on the west side highway
And in my hair, on my chest, in my bed, on my desk,
In my lips, on my naked hip… She left a trail of glitter


from Trail of Glitter, released May 6, 2016
The Bitter Poet: vocals, guitar
All words and music by The Bitter Poet (Secret Candy Music, ASCAP)
© & (P) 2015 The Bitter Poet

Recorded and mixed by Alex P. Wernquest, Basement Floods Records, Catskill, NY
Mastered by Jon Hildenstein at JLM Sound, Jersey City, NJ
Photos by Michael Alan Wells, NYC



all rights reserved


The Bitter Poet Brooklyn, New York

The Bitter Poet's anti-folk, indie-rock, musical storytelling is darkly humorous, intense, gritty. His songs are honest to a fault, yet over-the-top and grandiose in the style of Tom Waits or Nick Cave.
Musically, his straight-ahead rock chords and carnival-like lyrics blend humor, pathos and outrage. He has been described as “Lou Reed meets William Shatner” and “The Doors meet Jack Nicholson.”
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