Daniel

was sitting by
himself that
night in the
smoking garden
above the Blue Note.

A lanky forearm
outstretched and
upturned
on the picnic table, I
recognized the dark
outline in ink beneath
his skin.

He held his arm like that
as bait
for pretty young things
who loved Radiohead.

I’m back in America now
and came across
his blog
last night.

Poems about girls.

Where’s the poem about me?

Heart-racing, impulse-clicking
NEXT POST
NEXT POST
NEXT POST
NEXT POST

impulse clicking
Somewhere near Dallas, Texas
Advertisements

One thought on “Daniel

And your thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s