bliss station ~ poetry

first the boy sings & then the girl sings

looking for the people who look
like movies, you were a pilgrim
searching for the gods of lipstick.

skinny jeans, torn jeans, patched
jeans, gaping sleeves, no belts
pencil bottoms, fitting ribs like
second skin. I had milk-teeth hair

pants that could hold two for a boy
barely one, tucked-in shirt, twitching
lips, nose, eyes of a plant left alone
in the same soil for some time.

familiar with following, I followed
used to waiting, I waited. my lips
purse wherever your eyes must
have fallen, I can see all that you saw
but still not see what you saw in it.

whatever they are made of, where
are they now, when I feel like singing.

~Ajay
4/1/2020