I can still feel the texture of her hands
Moist lips bristling against neck
The soft wisp of breath
The smell of cigarettes on hair
Vodka daiquiris in the air
Reeling heads we waltzed in shadows
I never did see her pixie face
Her small crinkled hand
Nested neatly in my palm
We kissed deeply in the dark
A tall muscular man bored
Shot glass holes through my skull
Escaping a lover’s wrath I melted
Out the back door into winter’s fog
I searched two years for her
That is I sought her hands
----December 30, 2002
Also check out my new wordpress website. It's a literary journal called Randomly Accessed Poetics! Submissions are open. We publish continuously and Issue 1 will soon be released!
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