Armand Poetry

Welcome to Armand Poetry. The poems (and other words) here are composed for my own thought and amusement. Comment and discussion are welcome. -Amore, Armand-

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Orange in Bloom

I ordered a Latte, which is not my usual fare.
I figured there would be less caffine with all that milk in there.
I walked upstairs to join you in the loft,
A place where I had never been, but it felt like home.

You sat accross from me and talked about your work.
You looked into my eyes while we spoke, which did not go unnoticed.
You seemed comfortable with small talk,
The deeper story will wait for another time.

We left our empty cups, stepping into the larger world.
We walked toward the sun, on streets where you don't have to drive like a mexican,
We talked about places, and baggage, and bloodbath histories,
Circling back to your door, where we say goodnight.

1 Comments:

  • At 12:24 AM, Blogger gordon said…

    some expressive lines, and I love the term "bloodbath histories," especially as appropriately juxtaposed against more prosaic matters as "places" and "baggage."

     

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