He looks like a kabuki dragon
acid trip, only on his left half.
After ordering some coffee,
this man, of intimidating height
continues his conversation with the blonde.

The green ink covers his face,
and slowly meanders to the left of his body.
Hairless, the glasses and earring
make his exterior look like a pearl.
As he talks with his hands,
the green moves like leaves in a jungle
that swallowed the gem.

In a single swipe,
his paws could crush mountains.
Both hands envelope the coffee cup
as if it were a tiny kitten he is leaning in to kiss.
Despite his brutish appearance,
I can tell he is a gentle creature.

His deep voice is soothing,
as each sentence hums  
though it causes the coffee shop to shake.
I wonder if gods sound like that
or if all the smoke this dragon man exhales
has deepened his chords.

I’m nervous this living mythical figure
will catch me staring,
though I’m sure it wouldn’t be the second time
he’s had to ignore it.
I’m envious, knowing his journeys
and personality are etched into his skin
for the world to see.
But only he knows the translations.

So bold,
so confidant to wear not just love
but pain and life-lessons on his skin.
Perhaps I’m drawn or inked to him
because I could never be that open,
and honest without saying a single word to anyone.