Stubble and stare and the green gets hazy.
I can't tell where January ends and April starts.
Wondering about coat lengths, hair bands, hands hanging,
Hands in the ring of silly dust.
I don't remember if your forehead was warm when I touched it,
But your eyes were,
And it bothered me having to respond to "I love you"
When I love you and I wanted to tell you and catch it.
We talked about the men we should all have some day
And the fabulous haircuts and shaggy bump riots.
It was girly as if age didn't matter, so I was older.
Warm night readied me for the chorus line
And I'll still dance,
With the torsos for sprinkling and chins for their shape.
(Written in 2006)