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hong kong adolescence
by Sophia GraceI.
we bought bottles of cheap vodka
from the old man with the stand on the beach
who must be half blind because baby,
oh baby,
when you look at me
over-eager
flustered
and less scared than you ought to be
when you look at me
with that cheeky grin
you're twelve years old and
i'm not that filthy but
i'll take you anyway
II.
midnight, mid-autumn festival and
the night is full to bursting,
children with glowsticks
and your lips sticky
with moon cakes
which i have always hated.
no one notices as
i peel off my shirt, sticky with salt
to lie facedown in the sand
and you kiss every vertebrae,
savouring the taste of
bonfire smoke on my skin.
III.
no one takes the old two-story buses anymore -
i always think they will tumble
delicately off the cliff into
the harbour as the drivers race
screeching along at 70mph.
and the music will stop and,
in slow motion,
you and i and all will return to the sea.
but right now i am distracted and can't
look out the window to hope
as your fingers relish the
space between my thighs,
tracing promises
on my skin. 12/27/2007 Author's Note: This is part of a long-running series that I finally dragged out of my notebooks. It's nowhere near finished and probably never will be.
Posted on 12/27/2007
Copyright © 2024 Sophia Grace
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Shirin Swift on 06/14/08 at 06:56 AM i like this poem, sometimes these sorts of "unfinished" pieces are the best and most similar to how life is sparked by significant flashes of experience |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 10/16/08 at 11:34 PM A soft lucious passion fruit for the senses while tweaking the imagination about how filthy filthy might be. Good imagery. I am in the upper half of that bus wondering if it will remain vertical or if I will drown. I enjoyed this one, Sophia. |
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