I’m experimenting with different poetry styles as I continue to work on my writing workshops that I plan on teaching when I get back to Australia, have I mentioned I’m writing a workshop curriculum?
precarious pairing of potential liberation
He has tattoos and guns and money and
He’s not the sort I’m meant to
Talk about how his eyes were glowing
That evening beneath street lamps when
He picked me up because I am always
Out amongst the sidewalks alone too late during
Times that girls are supposed to be tucked in
Away from what roams the nights making
Deals and shaking hands and driving new cars
Every day because life flips every twenty four hours
I smoked his fire and he said I was beautiful
And I wanted him to touch me but he said
He was going away and somehow he surprised himself
That a green eyed creature lost not seeking
Stumbled across the front of his house making him
Want to protect and promise and swear how
He could be different after a few more deals inviting
Me into his car where girls aren’t meant to go
In the front seat beside a stranger playing bass
Talking to little boys on the block about what they owe
How much they know about business and stacking
Dollars in his pockets driving me up 5th Avenue
I touched the inside of my thighs and squeezed the denim
Hoping it covered the way my legs flexed as he
Tried to explain and apologize and understand what
It was during those moments that goodbye became
Impossible but he said he would come back for me
After that last night where he met me at the club
With whiskey breath wearing a black wife beater
Baggy jeans, Nike Airs, cologne scented movements
Having me press my hips into him on a dance floor
Which I don’t usually do but those beats hit me
Toward danger how I tend to move and he kept
Distance alarmed by understanding of eye contact
In a dimly lit room I am still wondering about this
Secret encounter that stays in my dreams with wonder
And hope for once that we could have been seen.