but pretended I didn't,
texted her "I'm here." from the back,
and just stole gorgeous glances.
Her dad’s cover band is killing Neil Young
and I’m trying to pretend that it’s ironic—
but I’m tipsy on club soda
and the way she laughed
when I told her the Aunt-Linda-looking lady
Her dad’s cover band is killing Neil Young
and I’m trying to pretend that it’s ironic—
but I’m tipsy on club soda
and the way she laughed
when I told her the Aunt-Linda-looking lady
dancing near the stage flashed her dad.
Her brother plays his guitar low
like he’s praying to the gods of metal.
I clap.
She laughs again—
and I feel it in my chest
like he’s praying to the gods of metal.
I clap.
She laughs again—
and I feel it in my chest
like a sudden thunder clap.
Somewhere between "Harvest Moon"
Somewhere between "Harvest Moon"
and “Keep Your Hands to Yourself,"
we talk poetry and modern ballerinas,
as I imagine a life where I could just Stay
under this neon forever.
under this neon forever.
The fans are working, the ice is thin,
my back is to the band,
my back is to the band,
but my eyes are hers,
yet they refuse to lock
out of some childhood vulnerability,
which leads me to leave.
Outside, the Florida heat thickens.
Outside, the Florida heat thickens.
Her name sounds like a whisper
I have the desire to say aloud.
I have the desire to say aloud.
She's walks away wearing that tank top
like it’s part of a personal weather system,
pulling storms into her orbit.
like it’s part of a personal weather system,
pulling storms into her orbit.