child, the halo above your head has slipped.
no longer the portraits once framed by our parents:
cracked knuckles, clutched fingers,
carefully curled body.
the back row of a chinatown bus where eternally
i hope to find your outline
back from boston.
time stutters, you mutter nothings of
somethings. (please)
do not make whispers of me to that boy's ear.
a l w a y s n e r v o u s
you liked my dress & i
seduced you with my glasses on.

now you are just a heavy memory.

1 comment:

Bobby Malone said...

so awesome, my favorite of the recent posts. you could seduce anyone with those glasses on.

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