Disembodied Voices

There’s a boy that’s tall and narrow,

With a yellowed and crooked smile,

That smells of sour tobacco,

And has a breath that stinks of bile,

But his words are as sweet as liquor,

And they set my chest afire.

And when his eyes begin to linger,

Mine begin to desire.

With his walnut gaze, and whittled wit,

And a snout meant for sniffing,

A voice sung by fiery spit,

But a mind worth admiring,

He’s my muse to abuse,

With freckles and tattoos,

Rude, crude and unrefined,

He has the kind of charm

That only you could find.

He’s curious, a tad mysterious,

And he’s not all that serious.

But he’s far far away,

On grounds I have not stomped,

A stranger during the day,

A face I haven’t unlocked.

Oh, starry swirls and wanderings worlds,

What if he wandered into me, out of all the other girls.