at a distance of two dozen paces?
i don't know, i don't know.
i don't have a revolver to reach for, no bullet
with which i can ensure that you fall for me shortly. surely.
still, you are staring so nonchalant & easy;
like this is the simplest, most natural thing in the world.
((maybe if it were anyone but me?))
but we would be a scene straight out of a movie.
my cardigan dripping artfully from the shoulder. a flimsy white camisole.
the burning sunlight just starting to soften. ((in truth it is still harsh & unmellowed, but retrospect changes even the shades of light.))
your hat perched low upon your forehead, framing your unerring gaze. the shape of you stenciled upon the afternoon.
your body curved at an angle which cannot be mistaken for anything but interest.
my earphones are playing the soundtrack of a heartbreak, which i suspect is to become my own.
yeah. a scene straight out of a movie.