A north storm
Fog wind is my cold question,
Drifting between friend sets
apple-less
all calves and wrists
I pause to copy your aura
My girlfriend complains about the impending sight of
grays the lake before creeping
over February sun,
wetting the parking lot first.
what will happen tonight?
Friday plans of a dark pub
would dissolve with your single yes.
bracketed by common envy
and need
you and I dance our joy to exhaustion.
Apple
fruit of framed peer lens pie
with your red this and read that
angle of glimpse
you sleep
head tilting
swaying song of a history teacher
you know when not to smile
sun-flecked stranger
my infatuation with tanned confidence
smirk and quirky grin
as Communism flies like a dream
over the heads of fellow sleepers
Wait
bra straps as we walk into the plaza.
Fiesta teens do indeed dot the grass,
trying to look comfortable
despite music that crushes us with centuries.
The Spanish stole this land.
I'm a newcomer myself.
I travel this city's roads and wait to be engulfed.
Moving between video stores, grocery stores, work,
how can I ever soak up so much weight?