D-Block

D

New poem I wrote recently! Be sure to leave comments.

Never leave a spare key for those who forget to knock,

Dahv

D-Block

Listen:

my index fingers on the table –

tap, tap, tap –

sound like drum sticks.

Sit across from me.

Legs-crossed, I drum roll

on my sole with my indexes,

pointers, pointing at you.

Look at me.

Legs uncrossed, chin up,

hands scavenge front

pockets, I raise my right

eyebrow.

Yes?

Your eyes lower,

mine do too. Our

gaze meets beneath my desk,

above my untied sneakers, between

my ripped denim knee caps,

amongst the five-fingered

scavenger. One hand slips

out and skims my bangs.

You smile.

My pencil somersaults

and twists like a pole dancer

in the space

between my thumb and pointer.

You trace your palm’s life-span

in red pen.

Class begins.

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