I spoke to a girl with questions.
Silky black hair up like a pine tree,
cappuccino skin studying me
perusing thoughts like vinyl sleeves.
Petite and slouched against the wall
I did not catch her name,
cozy aimless no-name.
New star, squinting glances,
eyes rolling around like owls.
My beard was brustling
like a wildfire up my cheeks.
Maple eyes, oaky eyes,
ebony eyes, rosewood eyes,
burning the dead wood within me.