November 20, 2007
By J. Brendlinger, Swarthmore, PA


His lips part
A quick intake of breath
A flick of the tongue
And his mouth settles on the reed
Drawing a sweet, soulful sigh
From the curve of the saxophone.
I sit transfixed
Drinking greedily from the flowing music
A never ending thirst.
He stops
Lifts his head
And smiles
Lips like velvet curtains
Spread to show his smile
A neat row
Of white bricks.
He laughs, and a small crash of cymbals
Quivers in the cavity of my chest.
A toss of his head
And dusty curls
Bounce and twirl on his forehead.
He flicks them back,
And his eyes gleam
Like drops of amber.
An insect
I am trapped
Forever suspended
In translucent stone.
These eyes turn
A girl, studying her music
Presses her fingers silently
Against brass keys.
He stares
And I know, as I’ve known forever
That he could never love
A boy like me.

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