HushThe way you look In your blue-cloaked nakedness Alabaster skin pressed tight against mine Fingertips electric, the hush of your breath Makes me wish this could be more than transitoryHush
PostUnder the red glow of the porch light We sit amongst discarded cups and empty packets Smoking the last of a handful of salvaged cigarettes Munching on grease-ball burgers The only substances available (or desired) at this hour Summer has officially ended about three months too late The crisp late-October air brings to mind the inevitable arrival Of Bing Crosby and Johnny Mathis I sit back in the ancient rocking chair Generations old, chained to a pillar in order to foil West Campus' many thieves All asleep by now, I'm sure I exhale a breath of smoke Wishing I hadn't wastePost
