Kid in the front yard talking to his friend,
a little past boys, but not quite men;
might’ve been working on the motorbike,
analyzing girls they like.
Skinny in jeans, black tee, high tops,
he finishes a cigarette, casts butt off.
With a smirk more than wink, a squint, one-eyed,
like he just offered some keen insight.
T. Allen Culpepper