Bokeh (2)

When the thoroughfares sink to the manner of seeing you  

gossamer thin at the hem of my vision,

when alleys  are wrapped in your Muzak of metal

and lives spilling out from the faces of strangers,

our city exhibits the talent for wearing you

properly fitted and prudently chic.

 

But perhaps you can say that I’m not like the city.

Your pockets are gloves when I borrow your lighter,

your arms are my sleeves ‘til they're no longer cold,

and your fingers are rings that encircle my thumb

 

‘til our nearness allows them to rust, break apart,

move the air, walk away

while the avenues put on the blurring of you.

Reviews

[Everett DeValle]

I always loved your voice, Apon, you have a natural gift...I miss your poems.

[OT]

oh this is brilliantly done! loved - "But perhaps you can say that I’m not like the city.
Your pockets are gloves when I borrow your lighter,
your arms are my sleeves ‘til they're no longer cold,
and your fingers are rings that encircle my thumb" - the symbiosis almost - an that first - "I'm not like the city" - had my mind spinning off! was sent here by Emily, and glad I was! great work!

[arbitrary jane]

oh.... this is exceptional. striking metaphor wrought with intention.
i am completely enamored of the way you have approached the subject from two different points. yourself and the city.

... i've now read this five times...
superlative work.

[aponijose]

@Emily Burns - It must be. It must be love and a couple of typos that I didn't notice last night. Definitely a face palm moment. :P

[Emily B]

it must be love