cheeks gouged cleanly with an icecream scoop
and blonde-shuttered eyes that droop -
fluttering like moths against a screen door
on a dusty summer eve;
lulled by the sway of winding road
he struggles to keep his head aloft
a spindly neck
as the others come and go like tumbleweed
and he a pebble:
delicate, serene.
my stare absorbs him so perfectly that
i can feel the contours of his face
beneath my fingertips
and hear the whispers of dream and longing
into the dim hours after
silently, he slides through the doors
and dissolves back into the night
