A silkened cigarette, brushed heavily against-amid THIS all too notably weather-beaten quip – a manly man masquerades as anything else but
Just,
Soft to the heavenly feels touch… and these darkened blue-hue skies
which tremble bindingly above
blind his mind in a most welcoming manner
His fashion sense, if a little altogether off, OFFERS open-ended interpretation… and a fair damsel in relative distress awaits, sitting prettier than any known picture that his descriptively inclined mind could ever reimagine to descriptively realign… in these surround sound chitter/chatter wings
They are HIS wings
BECAUSE this back alley pub can be absolutely anyone’s
For all of a most magical and perfectly intertwined night
It’s all right now
And his smile reconfigures the misshapen sky again – figures it all out finally
