Monday, 15 May 2017

poem: black denim

god bless you skinny legged
black denim encased
boys in bands

I imagine you’ve grown your hair long since you were a private school boy
you’ve grown a moustache and you mean it
I’m laughing at your jokes and calling your eyes over
you cannot see me in the crowd through the lights,
but still I’ve made a cosy story for us

let us never speak;
by 24 you’ve read just enough philosophy to be dangerous.

there’s no way I can oversell the fact that
you’re not smiling at me, even through the lights, you’re not smiling for me
and I’m not the one you pursue to take home
girls like me
never girls like me.

god bless you boys in bands and your
skinny black jeans

After the show
I leave suddenly, because
it doesn’t matter how good you look behind a keyboard in those black jeans if you’re a dick.

that’s a lie, because I am powerless before black skinny jeans
the cockiness of youth.

Let us speak, I can teach you something
beyond the music lessons your parents paid for that have you here, fodder for women
as well as girls
as well as me
as well as all of us.

us, we’re 
all scrabbling for 'cool enough’; 
you are unironically wearing a full moustache.

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