the self says, i am; the heart says, i am less; the spirit says, you are nothing. – Theodore Roethke
11:50pm January 4 2001 – JetFuel, Cabbagetown - lkw
she’s got
she has
this face,her eyes so small but pupils big
deep grey, green, blue
she’s got these hands so small & dainty and calloused
why but how
she’s got this vicious smirk
on her face
laughter contagious it makes you stop your breath
she has these cheekbones chiseled, sexy, strong
oh my she has this handsome original something
her nose is priceless her body movements are subtle concise and smooth you want to take her hands
you cannot read her
she has this smile it haunts
and her lips her teeth her mouth they drawl and purse when she tells you
and she holds her cigarette like an old woman, a traveller from Portofino
she has this gaze where she is looking into me half sad half something else
anything
she seems to always be pissed-off amused or tired
her chin is clefted, strong, soft
her ears you want to pinch the lobes between thumb and middlefinger as her eyes look up at you and fill with water
she has this presence we all stop and look when she walks in we all say hello how are you though we all leave her be we know she wants and wants not our company and we will never know which one she wants
she’s got
she has this exquisite face
this face you find you are always looking at
drawn-to, making you uncomfortable
she’s got i mean she has this exquisitely, haunting face
