Spiked metal shoes with heels, in fright
Click and clack above the noise.
Blouses, unbuttoned, open to reveal the slight
Bosoms, and hard shoulders held straight with poise
And pride in their youth.

Boys with grizzled chins,
And baseball caps all askew,
Boast of their many sins
To other boys, who grip their beer cans anew
And let flow the nectar down their throats.

Girls in soft skirts and wry grins,
Their gazes wandering, eye you;
They whisper and sip on tonic and gins,
Deviously chuckling and waiting to deny you
The chance to speak to them.

Other girls, with trees adorning their arms,
Stand quietly, their eyes closed, and sway.
Bracelets, like chimes, ring – soft alarms
To ward you and your ilk away
From them.

You stumble through the din
And brush against supple skin,
And marvel at the mysteries
Of these girls, whose histories
You will never learn.

A song, too loud, shakes the room,
And you stand solitary and loom,
Too tall, above the flowing crowd.
You tower, alone, in a shroud
Of gloom.

Outside, more youths stand, legs relax and hips jut
In all directions and smoke fills the air;
Shrill voices, like sirens, proclaim “What a slut!”
And fall silent under your fixated glare,
Which you let fall.

You slink home, an imagined rain
Spattering on the pockmarked concrete,
And your heart swells with the pain
That comes only at the hands of youth’s defeat
And thoughts of lush flesh.


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