"mercedes" poems
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
A bunch of roses so she won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
9 airplanes flying
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
10,000 dollars
9 new airplanes
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of flowers
So my honey won't **** me
At the last minute of Valentines
I got my honey
11 new purses
10,000 dollars
9 airplanes flying
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
So my honey won't **** me
The last thing I got that truly broke me
12 different houses
11 new purses
10,000 dollars
9 airplanes flying
8 new yachts
7 maids a waiting
6 roundtrip vacations
5 mercedes benz
4 sets of earrings
3 diamond rings
2 box of chocolates
A bunch of roses
After this she better marry me
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 10:37 AM UTC
doctors in the old days
did more than read a book
they made house calls on the cold days
just to have look
they brought the medicine
they gave you what would heal
they didn't work for big business
they didn't work for a pill
doctors in the new days
call it medical care
they drive mercedes
they don't have much time to spare
they sell the medicine
they give you what is next
they work for big business
they work for a check
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 7:40 PM UTC
You're just a tiny bit minimalist in your own unique way
a white star I have to squint to see in daytime sky
not a Mercedes five point but a Nissan Micra car
you park neatly in a three point turn by my netsuke
and put a circular dent on my platonic furniture
Your two humble rooms devoid of any bold sculpture
except a fold-out table and a miniature bubble chair
and a futon for a bed which is troublesome to share
you draw the line at adornments but allow a wallflower
A bulb in a bowl is your ornamental garden feature
mealtimes a nibble on grated carrot celery cucumber
you run so long on empty you're an eco friendly teacher
stretching out the energy is a passion of my lover
engaging in lessons on sustaining a resourceful nature
Your shoes two pointe ballet slip ons easy to care
barely there g-string thin cotton underwear
nothing loud to upset your understated figure
slight as a pin drop your bottom's semi-derrière
sits so light on feet I'd swear you float on air
I rarely get to hear you come before you're in my hair
with a voice pitch high as a smitten kitten's purr
your upper reaches get a score sized single 'A'
nice when it fits into our schemes of feng shui
I carry your bundle home on the roadway rivers of light
yet you only burn one ray of candle power at night
born of scintillating atoms which flow along each vein
containing so much love without clutter in your frame
a brave star small as wings formed of minuscule wire
flutters in your eyes with minimal flare
but deep desire
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
If you haven’t noticed this town is a very small place,
And it makes me wonder about the type of people that live here.
Now there is diversity of origin with every kind of race,
But there’s a type of race that is starting to disappear.
That race is an economic one called the working class,
It is heavily getting replaced by what we normal folk call the wealthy.
These people drive their shiny Mercedes like their whole life was a free pass,
And they flaunt their money around to the point where it’s unhealthy.
They buy their cookie cutter mansions up like they’re buying Taco Bell,
Spending a million dollars on a house for four surely isn’t ridiculous.
And maybe it wouldn’t be if the other 99% of America could do it as well,
But we have a lack of money that makes us a bit more meticulous.
We aren’t able to buy a new house or a new car just because we want to,
And we sure as hell can’t afford a Porsche or a Corvette.
Unlike you we have our sad little low paying jobs to do,
Yes, I’m totally sure sitting in your office chair really makes you break a sweat.
But the worst part of it all is these rich people will have a daughter or a son!
And they’re gonna grow up to be just like their mother and father.
It’ll be like watching a reality tv show rerun,
They’ll be wasting the same money and being the same bother.
My children will be working just to buy enough gas for their car,
While these kids will ask mommy or daddy for a new watch or phone.
But I guarantee you the working class kids will go twice as far,
As the little rich kids who will grow up always expecting a loan.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 6:30 AM UTC
the sun sizzles
on that red car
wrinkled skin sits and
ages as that motor
howls on
waiting for a go.
a mercedes, maybe
or perhaps, a honda.
either way
this is why I hate Florida
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
to the hometown i hate,
i miss seeing the october sunrise while taking the train to school every morning
to the hometown i hate,
i miss being able to wear uggs, hats and scarves already at the end of september,
to the hometown i hate,
i miss being able to buy 90 cent face masks and my favorite protein bars at the drugstore 10 minutes away from me
to the hometown i hate,
i miss seeing the porsches and mercedes c-classes parked on the curbes of our sidewalks
to the hometown i hate,
i miss the quietness of my area
to the hometown i hate,
i miss being able to speak a language i know fluently, not worrying about the anxiety i get if i get into a complicated situation
to the hometown i hate,
i miss running in the quiet, clean, green forest next to us
to the hometown i hate,
i miss sleeping in my own bed, in the room i did not like
to the hometown i hate,
i miss being able to go to my fully-equipped kitchen and bake whenever i want to, which i complained was too small until i moved into my dorm
to the hometown i hate,
i miss you
Oct 31, 2021
Oct 31, 2021 at 3:26 AM UTC
I want to get hit by a BMW.
I want to get hit by a Mercedes.
I want to get run over by a Porsche.
Something big.
I want to get smeared against the pavement
by a Cadillac Escalade.
I want to get hit by one of those big ********
who drag gasoline across the continent,
but I want the driver to be a manic psychopath.
I want him to stalk me on the sidewalk
and then run me over slowly.
He's not any coward, not like those bald patriarchal
Corvette drivers in polo shirts tucked into khakis.
No, he's a great fat man, a hairy beast with
a crooked stare that slows the pulse on impact.
I want the police to cringe or get scared interrogating him,
and haul his truck somewhere to be inspected.
I want the price of gas in nearby areas to go up
by at least fifteen cents for two weeks.
I want to get hit by a BMW.
I want to roll over the windshield,
and drag under the bottom for about ten yards.
I want to separate at the middle and leave organs on his
left side view mirror and hanging on his hood ornament.
I want to seep blood deep into his car,
and when he turns on his heat,
he'll smell my blood full blast in his face
burning.
I want to wreck the car inside and out.
I want to get hit by a car with a McCain sticker on the bumper.
I don't want to get hit by some middle class Ford or Honda,
or someone's shit-level Chevy or beat up jalopy.
I want to get hit by a BMW.
I want the driver to make his tires scream like banshees,
and leave four long streaks of rotten burned rubber on the asphalt.
I want him to step out in business attire, and gasp, inwardly.
I want to flip off the sky, because my aim is bad,
and call him a coward for hitting the brakes.
I want him to think,
"What did I do?
Is he Okay?
What am I going to do?
What if I lose my license?
How will I get to work?
How will I pay for this.
Does my insurance cover
vehicular manslaughter?
I'm not alone right?
I'll get through this.
I'll survive.
I'll just be another statistic.
That's all."
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
Poema Code Switching
By Aylin Soto-Aleman, Mercedes Caballero, Jesus Martinez, Marta Silva, Alex Alejandre
16.4.15
El final de una etapa
The end,
The beginning of a new journey
un camino
A un mundo extranjero
Un deseo, un sueño
A dream
Haciendo mi propio path
un camino
rostros nuevos , new failures
historias nuevas , new experiences
a sequel to my story, con hojas rotas
y mojadas
INMIGRACION
La memoria es un salto
entre continentes
crossing invisible borders
swimming in the rios
corriendo debajo del sol
La memoria es los abuelitos
ancestors cooking arroz y frijoles,
flan, driving through for hamburgers,
popcorn, sipping on horchata
Basilica
No todo lo que brilla es oro
not all rainbows and butterflies,
Clarita y sus cien años
Ruben y sus Tacos del Camino Real
El rancho
Midnight movies
Quiero a quien me quiera
It’s been a long day, without you my friend
Mexicanos al grito de guerra
Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light
Tepechitlan, Jerecuaro, Guanajuato
Long Beach, Argentine, KCK,
Chihuahua,
A Distance Between Us
El puente, the bridge.
Three Little Pigs en casa, at home,
don't step out marranitos,
la llorona te va a llevar
Memory is a leap
between continents
Cruzando fronteras invisibles,
Nadando en los rivers
Running under the sun
Born in different places
Pero las mismas intenciones
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
They said just one, and you'll fly,
Free forever, never to die,
A little dust, and into the sky,
Second to the right, straight on all night.
There you'll find freedom, there you'll find life,
Never to age, never to cry.
But all my happy thoughts flew away.
Now I'm just lost,
Still acting like a little boy, still running from pirates.
Know why they call it Neverland?
Because it's never coming back.
It was never there at all,
And it never will be.
Wendy started nursing school,
The Captain died from cancer,
The Boys left town, the pirates retired,
The fun is over, the thrill is gone.
John's a lawyer, Michael's a drunk,
Tinker bell's taking selfies from her new Mercedes,
The crocodile's chewing the fat off tourists in his nature preserve.
You know why they call it Neverland?
Because you never should have left.
Now we're all just shadows.
We grew up, when we swore we'd rather die.
They caught me, now I'm just a shadow.
They made me a man.
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 4:30 PM UTC
Frozen Pond
Buried deep under a frozen pond,
lies a brunette, red head and a blonde.
The brunette lived a simple life,
her name was Mary and my first wife.
Got married young, at age nineteen,
I was a king, she was my queen.
Caught her sleeping with my brother,
so naturally, I slept with her mother.
In the winter we went ice skating,
drilled out a hole, while I was awaiting.
As she got close, I pushed her in,
if only the ***** had a fin.
Two years later met a red headed beauty,
she was a little nuts and a lot fruity.
Ginger was this psychos name,
once again my brother was to blame.
Caught them in his back seat,
he played tricks, she gave him treats.
On the frozen pond we took a walk,
smashed a hole with a giant rock.
Pushed her in till she was under,
she screamed louder than Florida thunder.
My brother the blonde, his name Jake,
loved to go to that frozen lake.
Playing hockey with his friends,
him and his fancy Mercedes Benz.
One day we were passing the puck,
a hole in the ice and he got stuck.
I said, sorry brother but you deserve,
to fall in while I stand and observe.
Now my life is complete,
girls now know better than to cheat.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
Making love
is the city of ruin.
The worst kind of fog
captures it,
a fog where the streetlights
are not pushing out
light
into the right places.
Light falls only on the glossy mercedes
and it's rims
full of hope and wealth.
The skyscrapers
reach the sky
and finger the underbelly
of an afterlife,
as if there is something to look
forward
to.
The buses
transport
souls
and
promise,
or seem too.
But this is all a lie,
the lights only create light,
darkness grows,
the skyscrapers touch the sky,
yes,
but they don't know a thing
about goodness,
and the buses are full
of
hopelessness.
But when we make love,
it is like
we are only looking for the good things
in the city
as we get robbed blind.
When I touch your belly button,
I can feel your heart in your stomach,
so low and so unwanting
that it dropped
to a place of digestion,
of eating what we had
and ******** it out.
It is ok to realize
this untruth
late in the game,
it is wrong to continue
when we know of the untruth,
and that is what we are doing,
that's why I hate
you
and still **** you.
I love the city,
in its ruinous returns
I keep fooling myself
into thinking
this is the best thing that's ever happened
to me.
Your ***** must be the greatest,
because I'll never leave
even when we call making love
a city of hope
when we ****
and it's a dystopia
of
destruction.
Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 8:23 PM UTC
****
mit ein(e)
gernierung
of... ******
MACDONALDS
for the protestants
MCDONALDS
for the catholics...
and **** the rest of it
whoop di do d'ah
whoopsie!
**** it...
i always called the IRA
the ginger ninja brigade...
******* *****
ha ha!
is that even permitted?
like...
oopsies?!
oh ****
the steam-roller is
giving it a shot at reading
the earth,..
flat...
map on paper?
**** me... no app....
****** you ever navigate a car
through the German Rhine roundabout?
what's in it?
Dortmund.. Essen...
you know that constipated
part of the road map of Europe...
ever navigate that trippy
conundrum ******** of navigation?
beside me...
can't speak german,
won't navigate in german,
no matter how many
Mercedes-Benz they pump out
from the Henry Ford institute of
the reclining chair,
supposing
die krupps to be squidgy clean...
i think the european translation
reads:
die Dortmund Ringe...
das Rhine Ringe...
**** allocating yourself to a rally car...
navigate through that sort
of German ********
achtung achtung...
autobahn ende!
vorwärtskreis
might as well salute for a second
coming of... hítlear!
shaking Stevens?
huh?!
knee on the no contra
the know: bother...
the english won't know...
isn't that nay?
i listen to too much lawyer
jargon...
i'd love to listen to
poetry...
but... i figured...
lawyers play the slight of
the sly of hand that poets
exasperate into toying with words
to accomplish art...
lawyers? the impasse of
judgement?
**** me!
apparently the argument
goes:
down syndrome...
psychopaths...
'ere by god's grace...
much grace, my lord...
too much grace...
two salvation pointers:
(a) i won't drink with them...
(b) i won't eat with them,
(c) there is no "c" that isn't
a "d" that isn't an "e"
"f", etc!
you get a zebra...
you get a null bonus!
a ******* safari of an automated
anti hamster Boston outfit!
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 8:23 PM UTC
Only fifteen,
He is only Fifthy,
He, her cake eaten,
Her Grandfathers peer,
the Child Fears, that man is so Filthy.
Poverty is the biggest SINNER.
Orphaned,
Two little heads, 10 and 5
Dependant on this 15 year old mother-sister
AIDS is the killer.
Those groaning two little stomachs need a
filler.
Now destitute,
She drops out,
Looks but cant find work
Whites say experience lacks
Spotted by a mercedes benz driving
malechavaunist
She is robbed her innocence
to put food in the table.
Now one day,
The mother-sister never returned,
Exported to Mexico,
Shes been sold.
As a **********
*** slave,
They made *** tapes
The man called the woman by parts of herself.
When she cried.
"Shut up, you ***** You miss mama *******
Tapes
Sold online.
Be acknowledged
These kids grew up with Aunt
Biological parents deserted them
just when the young were toddlers.
Their mom in Gauteng, a Fan of ***********
..........just one day whilst watching **** on
You tube she saw a child with a face like hers
Blinked her eyes, looked again
Her baby
Her baby is a **** star.
Called the mercedes benz driving old man...
how could he have known?
He was never there.
oh He Sold her.
They recognised their child from ***********
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC
I was walking my big Ridgeback Mr. Brown
across the Starbucks parking lot
when this little white poodle started yapping
from the rolled-down window of a brand new Mercedes.
Mr. Brown responded like shot from guns
and before I knew it
he was scratching at the Mercedes door
eager to make friends with the poodle.
Then the Mercedes owner came running out of Starbucks
spilling latte all over his substantial stomach
What the ****
Look at those ******* scratches!
Do you know how much it costs
to fix a car like this?
I’m suing you and your big ******* dog !
Not wise, sir, I responded…
to be so aggressive with someone you don’t even know
and who has a 110-lb. African Lionhound
on the end of his leash.
I might be a whacked-out Vietnam veteran
with a hairtrigger temper
or a gang member
or maybe I'm just a senior citizen
with an extremely protective service dog.
Well, he said, his belly shaking,
look at my **** car.
I am looking at it I said
and handed him the keys to my ’68 Shelby Cobra
parked and shiny right nearby.
Take mine, I said
it’s more fun to drive.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
Well, it's almost here
the day that I retire
thirty years of servitude
not quite a funeral pyre
A planned escape
after years of malaise
thinking on what I'll do
starting another phase
I'll open up a glass shop
make some artistic pieces
fused, foiled, stained or blown
creativity never ceases
Maybe I'll make glass ******
something to please the ladies
custom designs and so ******
quality, as in Mercedes
Yes here it comes
for all the years I've strived
it's only just retirement
and yes, I'll still be alive
Turning out a product
designed to give life some joy
sure it's just a piece of glass
a hand crafted well made
toy
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 8:43 AM UTC
It is February
From my balcony
Yesterday I saw
a man in suit and tie
eating his lunch in a Mercedes
some old ladies crossing the street
in colorful hats
Maybe they were from England
A group of Jews with beards
and long coats walked slowly
“Let them mind their business,
while we have *** in the city”
Said she
and we took our clothes off
All this time
amid the noise and mayhem
We made love
culminating in syrupy peace
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
youve monopolised our lives
and get it wrong at every turn
we are born into one of your hoshitholes
destined to die in the same hole
some day
under your care
no other option
but to put our lives in the hands of incompetents
NHS doctors
NHS doctrine
NHS business models built upon sugar pill suckers
cant afford bedpans
funds low
i feel my pain
i havent got the *** to **** in or the mercedes benz to sustain
my sympathy ended the same way your empathy did
in your apathy
like my life will one day soon
under you care
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 3:38 PM UTC
daddy fractured our world,
titled it off it’s axis, sent it
careening out of control.
that was before the day
his own impairment
made him overcorrect,
****
the mercedes onto unpaved
shoulder, then back
across two lanes of traffic,
and over the double yellow
lines, head-on into traffic.
that was before the one-ton
truck sliced the passenger
side wide open. that was
before premature death, battered
bodies, and scars no plastic
surgeon could ever repair.
yes, that was before
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
Brown eyed
God driven
Family matters
Devoted to art
Electric piano
Traditional
Off beat guitar
Mercedes Car
High humidity
Cut grass
Atmospheric
Instability
Technologic
Quarter rounds
Day dreaming
Sleeping soundly
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC
Where was I, when you were alive?
Was I sleeping, dreaming, kicking, screaming,
Staring in wonder at the bright stars a-gleaming?
Where was I when you were crying?
Was I thinking of life after dying,
Seeing as it was, or blind and sighing,
Where was I when you were crying?
When you were born, what was I doing?
Was I speaking, walking, peeking, stalking,
Dancing, singing, laughing, mingling,
Looking, lying, toking, trying?
Where was I when you were on the beach,
Staring out towards the sea?
Perhaps I was taking a ***
Or sipping my hot cup of tea?
Where was I when you were sleeping?
Perhaps I was in mid-air, leaping,
Or watching as MTV was bleeping swearwords.
Where was I when you fell ill?
Was I parked up on a hill,
Waiting for life to arrive
With a plan it did contrive?
When you were driving,
Or tidying,
Perhaps on a snowboard somewhere, sliding,
Was I alone at home and hiding?
Or on the bike somewhere, and riding?
Maybe I was wide-awake,
Or laughing with my friends, while baked,
Or greasing a pan to bake a cake,
Contemplating what makes a lake.
Or perhaps I was asleep and dreaming,
and lost in my subconscious readings,
With avatars of all my friends,
Buying a Mercedes Benz.
Where was I when you were wasted?
Was I laughing at old hatreds,
Staring at a crawling aphid,
Or in the shower, and stark naked?
Where were you while I was thinking?
Perhaps you were awake and blinking,
All the sleep out of your eyes,
After dreaming of cute Albanian guys?
Where is everyone this second?
I mean, this specific second,
As I write or read this poem,
Perform it for a crowd so wholesome,
Where am I as you read this?
Up on a stage and fighting fears false lisp,
To make sure all of these words are crisp,
Or eating bread with ham and swiss?
Are you dead, or are you living?
A minion to society's bidding,
Or policing streets and finally ridding
Pavement of the hobos twitching out of crystal ****
Perhaps you're firing a gun,
Or you've found the only 'one,'
To love through thick and thin, till death;
Or thinking, "Wow, poor old MacBeth."
In this moment, is it all;
So listen to the moments call,
And cancel all your texting plans,
And use those thumbs to grasp the hand,
Of a loved one next to you;
"The day before" was never true,
So there's no better time for you,
To look for some more love to brew.
So get up, and go do.
Go do it.
Apr 27, 2011
Apr 27, 2011 at 12:10 PM UTC
Tucked away in our subconsciousness is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent. We are travelling by train. Out the windows, we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving on a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village halls.
But the uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day at a certain hour, we will pull into the station. Bands will be playing and flags waving. Once we reach there, so many wonderful dreams will come true and the pieces of our lives will be fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minutes loitering, waiting, waiting, waiting for the station.
"When we reach the station, that will be it", we cry. "When I'm 18", "When I buy a new 450SL Mercedes Benz", "When I put my last kid through collage", "When I have paid off the mortgage", "When I get a promotion", "When I reach the age of the retirement, I shall live happily ever after."
Sooner or later, we must realize that there is no station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly outdistances us.
"Relish the moment" is a good motto, especially when coupled withe the Psalm 118:24:"This is the day which the Lord hath made, we will rejoice and be glad in it." It isn't the burdens of today that drive men mad. It is the regrets over yesterday and the fear of tommorrow. Reget and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.
So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more icecreams, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more and cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. Then the station will come soon enough.
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 2:05 AM UTC
The pot-bellied Mercedes squealed
As Meursault withdrew and
Marvelled at the flames
Licking
The air
Like marigolds on Ritilin.
'Raymond would have no reason not to admire this act.'
He stopped by a shimmering sea of Ubers.
The scrape and drawl of siren made no impression on him.
Leaking smoke reminded him of
Snow White’s Cottage
Where he had taken Marie when Lucie was born:
The place where he would go out at dawn to chop wood.
He liked the way her roses played
With the restlessness of children.
Then he thought: 'if only mother could see me now.'
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 6:57 AM UTC
Oh God
He likes me
Oh Lord
He likes me
I think I like him
I know I like him
First date gone by
Winter formal dance
The words coming from his mouth next
"Looking forward to the next date."
Had my stomach tied in knots
Climbing out of his Mercedes Benz
With the broken radio
And the heat on full blast
A smirk
A smile
A raised eyebrow
A nod of the head
A kiss?
Too soon, perhaps
He a junior, me a sophomore
We could go places
The mall
Photo booth Polaroids
Strung about my room
Shared laughs
Long nights
Tired eyes
Upraised mouths
A relationship?
Maybe
A friend?
Definitely.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC