how hard had he hit

Such a sad guy here in the shop, lined up for coffee with the rest of us lot, quiet and handsome and lonely at his lips, acknowledging rejection with a sigh before he sips. We see him each day crossing from the Estates, as we holler of politics and slam their hands on our plates. We watched as he fell on his face on the walk. We salute as he stands and picks himself up from the block. His heart has been torn his mind has been worn… His passion was loud for the man who had bound his love at the wrists--those feelings--he took them risks! And he wouldn’t dare try to ever deny that there was nothing to gain, even though from Her he must now abstain.

Sheer desperation as he imagines him in the crowds--in the line-ups--at the bicycle mounds. All around there are others, but…they don’t walk the same…they don’t speak his name…they don’t melt the rain. They don’t scorch his flame. The heart is still creaking—full of love and ache; he obsesses of that moment; that hunger one could never fake: that very first kiss which spoke of stories from afar, spinning volumes, burning down your door!

He was served with the book of changes—brought together to reconnect with their minds. Such a short time and meant to inform of so many stages—quite the treasure this excellent find.

Those tiny Ts, the big arms bulging, the tight ripped jeans, the blue eyes indulging and black n’ white and gray all around, nobody came so close to poetry with each muttered sound. And so lined up for coffee with the rest of us lot, our sad guy here in our lovely little shop, quiet and handsome and lonely as he sips, suddenly forms a smile with those tenderly chapped lips. As a friend and once lover, as a buddy-turned-brother, his bittersweet pleasure upon conceding that: Love--She is endless… and Love--She’s a treasure… allows his soul to drift—to lift—to infinity, the universe’s indomitable gift.


Ldm