fur on your front teeth
To His Own Beat
He is so skinny,
Like the trembling girl
Who shoots up in a Park Avenue hotel bathroom.
He is so pretty.
Hershey Kiss skin
And snug vintage Levi’s. He has Rasta man hair.
He is dancing.
Twirling about in circles and diamonds.
Music on mute and records in his hand.
He is smiling.
Cherry lips unmoved.
His eyes smile behind the dark tint of glasses.
He is walking.
A leaf floats by
With the carelessness of day into the bleakness of night.
He is so cold.
The Paris stripes he wears
Are not enough to warm on the sharp November night.
He is so tired.
Setting the sushi down,
He flops onto a chair from the Salvation Army.
He is so lonely.
With the musty weight of silence,
The dread-locked man, with a hole in his shoe, sits by himself.
In deafening silence.
He is so skinny,
Like the trembling girl
Who shoots up in a Park Avenue hotel bathroom.
He is so pretty.
Hershey Kiss skin
And snug vintage Levi’s. He has Rasta man hair.
He is dancing.
Twirling about in circles and diamonds.
Music on mute and records in his hand.
He is smiling.
Cherry lips unmoved.
His eyes smile behind the dark tint of glasses.
He is walking.
A leaf floats by
With the carelessness of day into the bleakness of night.
He is so cold.
The Paris stripes he wears
Are not enough to warm on the sharp November night.
He is so tired.
Setting the sushi down,
He flops onto a chair from the Salvation Army.
He is so lonely.
With the musty weight of silence,
The dread-locked man, with a hole in his shoe, sits by himself.
In deafening silence.