
A Lean In Close
In-between those growing-up
years, those kisses deep
as a double bass,
Bobby Darin pours from
the jukebox. He’s a
dark language I don’t understand.
Sounds malicious. Thirsty
words soft as a cotton
saxophone.
It’s an over-salted melody,
and Mac the Knife plays on.
Written to prompt at dVerse Poets Quadrille #131: 44 words (sans title) including the word ‘juke’, Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021 Photo by Tom Grove on Unsplash
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