I wish
you would
unveil your insipid
conversations
and unbutton those
torn Calvin Klein jeans
and crisscross that liquid
red sweatshirt with
black marks of
fallacious promises
and
snip away at the blond shag hiding
your narcissistic ways.
I wish
you
would turn around
and see the dusty faces
of this homogeneous race
stuck somewhere underneath
your unlaced Nikes,
hear the taciturn manner
of whispers that
lurk behind our steps.
Walking toward
Where?
A clandestine place beyond high-
school football games
and jumping
into
piles of inane dreams
someday you'll understand the
antithesis of my meaning.