He sat on the steps
Of chipping paint.
Smoking a Newport
Like it didn’t much interest him.
“I’m philosophizing. Fuck off.”
With a grin that dismissed all he’d just said.
“No.” A raised index finger-
He changed his mind with a subtle lift of his eyebrows.
“I’m doing math. Impossible mathematics.
The sky is my white-board.”
Lifted his chin,
(Defiant) to the vast sapphire.
“And I erase with my breath.”
He muttered, and blew smoke…
Obliviating invisible celestial equations.
Author notes
unwittingly inspired by a 6 am 'conversation' with my roommate.
Judge me- I'm yours.
Comments
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Wow. I loved the imagery in the first four lines of this poem. And, for that matter, in the final two lines as well. Thank you for a wonderful read and your meaningful comment on my poem, Moonlight.
-laurel
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