Creative Writing, Venue

Your tune

In the creases of a crumpled T-shirt,
the darkening orbit of an orange pasta stain,
the unhinged playfulness of bright and living eyes…
the golden curls like mazes of cornfields – no way out –
The type you just want to twist around your finger –
I noticed you.
In the unrestrained laughter,
I would recall each word that tumbled from your lips
And hang on them, swing from them,
like branches to the safest nest,
Treasuring them as though they may break,
Repeating them as though they may cease to exist!
Words thrown in like the drop of a pin,
And the compliments like classical music,
Oh, charming violin,
Some hot and jazzy,
Like breathing on a microphone,
The blowing of saxophones,
And the grand words, the hyperboles, the amelioratives,
Arose like marching bands –
And I ran with them through the streets!
But there were also statements like nails on chalk,
personal remarks which singed my ear drums
– the sound of a lit match, the shock of fireworks –
And those quips like banging fists, throwing rocks, smashing glass…
Your lips unarched.
The battle between your music and my breath,
My fight to speak,
Then your Fidgeting hands,
Your unkempt grubby hands,
tapping away,
Your wondering hands,
wandering away forever…


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