The Girl Who Walks Behind(The Girl From Ipanema)

Another poem in my series of old poems no longer in rotation.

I spent 8 hours in a dark blue room
that hadn’t seen sunshine in days.
I was there with, or for, a boy,
a man who desperately needed a friend.
I skillfully dodged every melancholy phrase,
every admittance of condition
With a chuckle
or a slight change of subject
punctuated with a purposeful hand
Across his arm.

I avoided his drunken slurs of sadness
and accidental caresses
that yearned to forget
Her touch and the feeling of Her skin.
She existed in the creases of his hands;
like tiny shards of glass
She filled the space.

“Have you heard that song?”
“Have you seen that one movie
about that heartbroken guy-“
I forgot.
My eyes dart out the window
at the sound of some sunny dressed babe
calling her dog,
and I thank god
for beautiful girls
who break boys’ hearts.

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