handkerchiefs and a shave set, its brush and soap sitting on sterling silver stand. starched stiff collars and monogrammed cufflinks. worn watch face and dark-rimmed glasses. mints and lint in his pocket, coffee mug rings on his desk. leather wallet, one tweed blazer and an underused cashmere scarf. he clears his throat often, folds the corners of his pages and takes cream and sugar. worn brown Converses and the perfect pair of blue-grey jeans. an iPod full of spoken poetry and old-school reggae. has yet to reach 26 but is already deep and rich like the ebony desk where he sketches my hand over and over, but just the way it looks when it holds his.
do you see him? sense him? smell him? could you love him?
4 Comments
July 6, 2009 at 11:36 pm
So what is this young old man reading?
July 7, 2009 at 11:26 pm
the same thing you read: this blog.
…lol. kidding.
he would read biographies of great men and the history of Jamaica. don’t you think?
July 11, 2009 at 9:51 pm
sounds like a wonderful guy!
July 27, 2009 at 12:19 am
Indeed he does… and I daresay that the more I read your posts the more I feel like a terrible writer… and I say this shamelessly…no envy at all.
xo!
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T.