I’m watching a boy on an escalator.
He’s the one on it.
I’m the one not on it.
He’s about the same age as a character
in a novel that I’m writing, maybe a little younger.
He looks tired,
but when he walks off
and past
a couple
of emo looking girls
he changes.
He’s taller in this more slumped way.
His chin goes up in this shy way,
Flicks his head so his hair looks
A little bit more fucked up
, the good fucked up,
And maybe he sighs?
I dunno.
I had to stop staring.
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1 comments:
Man, thanksfor checking out my blog, and for your kind words. I'm thinking, maybe the google translation makes it all better.
Your piece reminded me of similar experiences I've had.
He’s about the same age as a character
in a novel that I’m writing, maybe a little younger: this of course justifies (for me anyway)the fact that I'm stabbing him with my eyes so hard his cheeks turn bloody red and i don't know if he's embarrassed or angry.
And maybe he sighs?
I dunno.
I had to stop staring.
Ha!Lovely.
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