Be Fri/St End

I was the magnet
for male attention,
in a barren small town, until

This new girl arrived
with her long dark hair,
torn jeans, red scarf
eyeliner all the way round
brown eyes

A tough exterior held broken insides

I saw her walking, alone
up the steep hill
holding a bottle in a brown paper bag

Now she is surrounded
people competing for the prize
the power of her beauty
a danger she can’t see
We intimidated one another

I came at her sideways

to claim my territory
Feeling threatened
all confused confidence in
black high boots with a sailors mouth

she smoked like James Dean, aloof
Quiet and controlled
but her laugh could animate us all
She never allowed herself to go crazy
I always said too much
I always came out worse off

A mystery I’m yet to solve

Our guard didn’t lower
until we got drunk together

and my glass


down the driveway

shattering at the bottom.



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