Admiring the Distance
Your black long hair,
like a cup of coffee in my hands.
Your hazy light eyes,
like a smoke from the cigarette I draw on.
You are standing there in line,
at the bar, waiting for a drink.
Beautiful figure, embodiment of femininity,
too good to be true, too untouchable to hope.
But I can watch, admire, dream,
at least I have that, and it’s enough.
Enough for someone like me.
I guess I’ll have another cup,
hold it in my arms,
it’s as close as I can get to touching your hair.
I’ll light up another cigarette,
and imagine staring in to your eyes.
You’ll be gone soon,
they all leave, but I’ll have something,
I’ll have a vision of you.
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