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poetry about love

love: untitled (shoes squeak in the gym)

shoes squeak in the gym
they throw things at one another
we sit in the bleachers
facing each other
and talk about cars

"they cut cars in half,"
he says, "and add stuff in between,
that's how they make a limo."
i speak when i need
but mostly i just listen

his lips change shape
his mocha skin
his bright, brown eyes
and smooth brow.

he listens when i say something
he laughs
and i smile and laugh too
his laugh is light
and mouth is stretched
to accomodate a smile

he knows so much
but nothing of me
i make him laugh
to hear his voice

--ketchikanjen

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