Pageboy haircut girl, I met her in the subway,
delineating the darken hair, from one side only,
asymmetrical despair, I couldn’t see her face anyway
As I step closer, she gives the cold shoulder
Her eyes dance (up and down) as in disco night
Arms grabbing the silver pole, glowing is so shy
Her wrists full of gummies, blackened and coloured
Everytime she moves a trace of rainbow appears up in the sky
But Little diva girl, piano notes brushing your hair
Aesthetics reinventing the world as you walk
Floating alone the space air, nothing I can do or repair
When your essence is “not to talk”.
I.J.
