charlie chaplin farce

now this just feels wrong,
like i am some imposter,
living in the wrong decade.

where are my pinups girls
& my martinis?
my lipstick lesbians living
in a studio in new york?

my abusive past
& that air about me,
it's something of a mystery.

i read like a good novel:
gut-wrenching, but in all the wrong places.