- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Green Eyes
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Slipping years. Seeing ghosts in the green eyes of strangers. He shaved his head for me and sculpted his beard. I didn't ask but it felt like a gift either way. Became a surge of memory and play that sent my spirits Morse code messages in stutter and blip. We laughed hard beneath a tree, tucked tight in an awkward corner lit only by a lantern filled with dead wasps. The flashes of the occasional lighting of cigarettes. A scorpion crept over my feet. There's no difference between an anti-hero, a villain, and a hero's bad day. The girl with blue lips and black eyes sometimes looks like a cartoon to me. I'm just thinking.
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