My Subject

Painting Carving 



Taking a picture 
The clothes you where.

The way you mess your hair 

The scent of boys, riding through the air. 

At the end of the row in the final booth, he looks straight at me. Up and let his lip fall agape. Violent green eyes framed by a chin strap on his relatively square face. A mole I think; and a blue shirt. 

Looking back,… 

With your ring in your ear sing


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