she walks
with focused grace,
legs curve softly
under loose fitted sofa
pants and skate shoes--

she talks with hurried
importance, words flying down
stairs until she pauses
momentarily to flip her
hair over her shoulder
(mind you it's just below shoulder length and i can't get over it)
and i love her--

we hold hands most nights
beneath dim stars and
whispering graves, walking silently
i long to kiss
your black lips, painted
but get shy
when you notice--

my skateboard lady,
i will come for you one day--