Details |
Avi Diamond Poem
I’m in downtown Pittsburgh
at 3:45.
This boy has pushed this
girl into a
wall. His hood
has fallen heavily over his face
and she is jerking
her head to see if anyone is
watching.
She soon spots mon amis et moi.
He is kissing her neck,
his back arching steadily.
She pushes him away again
lightly but
he seems not to notice.
We pass them as we stroll through
the infamous alleyway.
It is ripe with raccoon
eyed kids, sipping their
cigarettes.
They are trés ridiculous
so I laugh at them.
I used to think you were one of
them but you’re better than that.
I once was friends with
the short one with the
septum ring through her nose.
On to the 61C.
Judy’s words are distant now.
I’m off in Russia.
They all have the same
close cut hair
and grip the
rail attached to the window.
The girl is sitting.
Her hair is quite American,
long and relaxed on the side
and short pixie bangs
in the front.
Her eyes are dusted
with lavender shadow.
When she begins to speak
Russian,
her features
sharpen to me; eyes more distant,
skin colder.
She looks very Russian
now
and I love that.
Her smile is foreign.
I will miss it.
Copyright © Avi Diamond | Year Posted 2007
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Details |
Avi Diamond Poem
Radio smashers kiss
that boy right.
They don’t linger on
his need for syrupy lovin’.
There is no answer
to rejection
or his grin,
his loosened
passion.
“Come with the intellect
we give to you, boy.”
He leans on my tight grip
of romance.
There is a RADIO
in his
pants. You can try to
follow the wind of sound
but he will never
look beyond the static.
Copyright © Avi Diamond | Year Posted 2007
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