Teenage Gathering

At 18, fresh spectacles, beer and crisps
Cheap tea slurring in the evening
Hideouts of a hive of anglicised bees

Within them a paper floats; around it words
and phrases collapsing as waves, poems
without rhymes and poems about girls and boys
the fragrance of hashish; I found your face
between smoke and a hardbound

Influenced by the cuts in lines you sighed, nodded
Looked at the clock and felt life is long, leaving
The thought of creating a poem for later, music
from the jukebox banging every speaker
friends without ambitions
continuing pseudo banter

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s