Cut - Poem #8

Lithe and lovely Eritrean girl
high cheek bones, pearly whites
chocamocha, caffe latte
has me staring at her aquiline nose.

“Hey G.I! You buy hashish today?”
Smoke rings and a purple haze
scotch and water, tobacco and hash
I take the pipe, she takes the glass.

Slow dancing, hits and sips
mouths exchanging intoxicants
softening the focus, gettin in the mood
curfew’s passed; I’m staying the night.

It’s a high exploring each other
smoke touching me, lips on her body
‘till fingers uncover
missing pieces.

Scars and cuts, mutilations
bud nipped from a stunted flower
how does man maim
God’s perfection?

Will she stare at the ceiling if we love
looking for cobwebs to dust in the morning
going through the motions
sipping on her drink?

It’s not a night for love or caressing scars
Instead a night for a purple dream
to forget what I have seen
She smiles as I pass the pipe and take her glass.

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