The Boy

The boy with the golden skin who could
tan under a 10 watt bulb,
the sun streaked hair
just that little too long
with the square chin and
the long thin face,
much like the rest of him.
He's the one with the button nose,
the blue grey eyes
like November skies that only rain
in my presence.
That guy who's still stuck
in that awkward skinny phase
(but is growing out of it).
He's got those strong broad shoulders
like a surfer but hands as soft as
a spoilt unemployed layabout,
even though he's far from lazy.
He is far wiser than he thinks
and in this sense is the most ignorant person I know.
Some call it modest, I say just shy.
He keeps himself to himself except for
that. constant.rhythmic.drumming.
Oh-so-common in drummers.
He has that curve in his waist
just where my hand fits
and his back is as broad and smooth as a desert,
and much the same colour just not
70,000 miles across and without the camels.
His feet overcapistulate and he
hunches when he walks.  We never walk in
step, 2, 3, 4, right, left, left, right, left,
but it matters not, because
When I’m with him, everything's
okay again.
not perfect (I’d be slimmer and tanned then)
but a darn sight better that it could ever be with anyone else, and
That’s why this boy has my heart
Forever.