(no subject)
Poema.
The small headphone
Fits loosely in my right ear as
I watch the pale white cord snake
And twist, dipping in some areas,
Jutting upwards in others. my eyes
Walk the tightrope till
They find themselves staring at the end
Piece that fits loosely in your left ear
As you watch my eyes, dancing.
“Tenfortyfive. Shit,” I say as I glance downwards
At the glow on my watch. eleven is curfew.
You take my hand, place it on my chest
With yours beneath as to feel my heart
Beat. and the music plays and your cheek is
Against mine. and everything is
Okay.
The black asphalt below our bare feet
Paints a portrait of dips and spins and
Ohshityousteppedonmyfoots on our souls.
(Some wiseass may read this and
Think, “moron, you mean ‘sole.’”
But he wasn’t there.)
Ben Folds whispers my thoughts
Into your left ear as my right hand cradles
Your waist. a group of girls passes by the
Car we dance next to, and “aww”. we both
Blush a little, laugh, but don’t dare open
Our eyes because the purity of the moment
Would be soiled by the
Filthy brick walls that surround three
Of the four sides of this parking lot
In some small college town.
enjoy?
The small headphone
Fits loosely in my right ear as
I watch the pale white cord snake
And twist, dipping in some areas,
Jutting upwards in others. my eyes
Walk the tightrope till
They find themselves staring at the end
Piece that fits loosely in your left ear
As you watch my eyes, dancing.
“Tenfortyfive. Shit,” I say as I glance downwards
At the glow on my watch. eleven is curfew.
You take my hand, place it on my chest
With yours beneath as to feel my heart
Beat. and the music plays and your cheek is
Against mine. and everything is
Okay.
The black asphalt below our bare feet
Paints a portrait of dips and spins and
Ohshityousteppedonmyfoots on our souls.
(Some wiseass may read this and
Think, “moron, you mean ‘sole.’”
But he wasn’t there.)
Ben Folds whispers my thoughts
Into your left ear as my right hand cradles
Your waist. a group of girls passes by the
Car we dance next to, and “aww”. we both
Blush a little, laugh, but don’t dare open
Our eyes because the purity of the moment
Would be soiled by the
Filthy brick walls that surround three
Of the four sides of this parking lot
In some small college town.
enjoy?