May 01, 2003
I kneel on thorns, trying to find you
in some smoke filled room, some quiet corner
where you spin out stories to bury the silence.
Or standing at the jukebox, rapt
wrapped in torn jeans with glowing eyes and dirty fingernails too long
beautiful, so beautiful and not mine to watch.
Or on a sun-drenched day with dark water and mown grass
while the universe holds its breath and waits for us
and I try to memorize you like a song.
And I come so close
and then you're gone.
I stand, knees bloodied, catch my breath
walk home, gritting teeth
and resolve to look harder next time.