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Open Poetry #48
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| Open Poetry #48 |
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boy |
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roomandboard Junior Member
since 2011-12-21
Posts 13 |
Day frolicking on the east meadow sunlight’s shadows push through the redwood and play on your indented chin, irises look like water swirling at the bottom of a cement cylinder. You like me because I can see through the opening to the other side. When was the last time I saw a monarch? Oh, the print on the white velvet bell bottoms in a boutique on the street with all the homeless kids on the sidewalk who harass me for cigarettes next to the city garden where your father has worked for forty years as a gardener. You did not get your chin from him. Your tongue speaks sugar water, I’ve swallowed every story from the time you can remember. You look much better without the faded grey glasses that fall too low on your nose You look much better in bed. Your mother hates me because I don’t know how to cook, don’t get up before noon, complain about the fog, and work for just above minimum wage. I bought you roses for our first anniversary which you forgot, but I forgot your birthday. Napping with the smell of patchouli and sweat from the bodies around us another bad dream that we will not be us, we will only run parallel and not cross the intersection of compromise. The median is too much sacrifice. My grandmother told me I had to marry for love and like, now I know what she meant. |
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poetically ghetto Member
since 2004-01-20
Posts 100 |
almost did not catch this one which woud have been my loss such description that I was sad to hear it end |
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Mugwamp New Member
since 2013-09-22
Posts 8 |
Delightful! Can't wait to read more of yours! |
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