Daniel

was sitting by
himself that
night in the
smoking garden
above the Blue Note.

A lanky forearm
outstretched and
upturned
on the picnic table, I
recognized the dark
outline in ink beneath
his skin.

He held his arm like that
as bait
for pretty young things
who loved Radiohead.

I’m back in America now
and came across
his blog
last night.

Poems about girls.

Where’s the poem about me?

Heart-racing, impulse-clicking
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impulse clicking

Somewhere near Dallas, Texas

Galway Bay

it took four days of
wet-newsprint-skies
droplets covering my red beret
like the seeds of a strawberry

i positioned myself at
a window in one cafe
porcelain mug of coffee
and 2 books, stacked up

suddenly, finding
myself outside & my coffee
abandoned —

light on shining cobblestones
fast moving sky
please:

stay put for a moment

Bluish.