|Street Art, Charlottesville|
we eat pizza off paper plates
on the avenue of the open air mall
which smells better than it tastes,
but that is not the point, neither
the wrought iron table with a bit of a wobble,
a man and his son on the corner, picking banjo
& playing violin
nor the bricks that form broken symmetry
we crossed to this point, beautiful it is though
sun glows through a few stray hairs
dancing with the afternoon breeze, atop your head
in your eyes i see a man skipping, out of place
wearing a suit, sunglasses, shoulder length hair
holding hands with his purple dressed daughter
your lips damp with mountain dew,
a small dimple where the straw rests
along the lower one, the arc of your ear
round the shadow depth of its crease,
freckles reappear as seasons turn---
if you ask me what we are talking
about, i won't
be able to tell
i'll say 'blackberry jam'
& after you laugh, but before you can ask
i'll add, 'the taste of this moment'
not that you need to understand,
perhaps love tastes different
for each of us,
yet never like chicken,
that is reserved for everything else.
OpenLinkNight @ dVerse Poets - a full on poetry-polooza, with verse as eclectic as --- well i guess, as we are. Smiles. Write something, come join us. Tonight the host is the un-imitable Natasha Head. Doors open at 3 PM, see you there...