Monday, July 18, 2011


I see you standing there
Imperious gaze sliding
Past my face

My work boots
Dirty from digging
Trenches of communication

I smell sweet sweat on my brow
But it is not as strong as
Citrus flavored clean

Fresh pressed laundry
Coming from your
Milky shoulders

I inhale your essence from
Forty feet away
Standing weak with my shovel

Supporting myself
As sunlight sends halos
Around your cotton form

It is summer time
You are naked under a dress
Which caresses you like a lover

Street light changes to green
A color of departure
Of growth and cross-walks

I stare as your glowing countenance
Fades across a moat of hot asphalt
Oozing rotten to touch

Mercutio my tool partner shakes me and says,
“Stand not amazed! We’ve work to do!”
But your feet left no impression on hot street paving

How do I tell you I saw you
Not thighs, nor lips or breasts
But I saw you…

Me just
a digger of ditches
In front of a Casino
In a dying


DS Baker

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