saturday night love poem for grown folks #1

the afternoon
scats like Ella circa ’59
i fix my collar
hoping that the sweat
of fresh sandalwood and elderberry
still carries my words to your ears.
ears that let the wind
leave couplets in their folds
to be whispered whenever
the pink coral earrings
that called you to get them
off of rivington street moved.
coffee may keep us awake
but i’m dreaming in your eyes
carving my name in their teak interior
like lazy schoolkids.
and as you blush
i gently touch your hand
because as night slowly walks
i need to be familiar
with all the ways
your beauty can make my blood cease to rush.

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