If I Knew You, Man in the Street

He was

intricate golden lettering,

bruised knees and

lips caught in a lisp.

Crows feet

that swam, like waves

of bible pages,

he was lost in the current.

Ashes for eyes,

he had tears like a

house-fire, cheeks

warmed in soft cotton.

He loved like a

violin in a snowstorm;

shrill barking hail and

the sigh of saccharine touches,

His blonde hairs

tangled in the sheets,

corner to corner they meet

every faculty and every street

he roams, until the rain pours down

and he carries himself home.


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