Blue in Green

he listens to jazz in his room
horn and slippery bass line
rolling thumb on thigh
going on some number of years
well beyond his age   hair
on upper lip and other fresh places
buds on fragile branches
lights and shadows
in color in long limbs ankle bare
welts of ash on skin on bone
the years as ribbon
all of that reach for when I’m older
on his sleeve  all that angst
rhythm and gold
he reminds me of a firefly
bright shutter and bloom

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Categories: Poetry, Writing

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