slightly new draft, for next month’s WORD!…

March 3, 2010

His portrait blooms
a faded newsprint

graphite lines
bleeding into heavy paint

He looks like knives:
his Elvis shirt
his checkered blazer

He’s fleur-de-lis,
pink chain
across his dark neck

And he looks like shadows
strolling into walk-ways

He looks like thoughts
realisations coalesced

He’s playing pool
and drinking lager

He’s dating girls
and eating chips,

He looks like knives:
his Elvis shirt
his checkered blazer

It’s the 60’s or the 70’s.
He’s looking at you.
Things are going to change.

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