Teal

side streets disappear like snow
and skinny boys hold court
with laughter, smiling at girls
they don't know
leaning in, leaning back
like still shots in a frame
little drips of life
teal, white and black
long hair on him and friends
it makes him more angelic
and kind of fragile

at home on the night train
a poet writing letters
that read like a soap opera
about how he sometimes
wants things that don't want him
and loved ones that don't know yet
what love is

he's slipping like watercolors
in someone perfect painting
always fading into a cloud
of a surreal blue sky
leaving you
looking for a little more
of something that you never
really see

but he's guilty of making his girl cry
because he had a good summer
without her

and he won't go home again
or stand in the rain with a brother
the nights are different now
the air warmer
his friends have adopted him
and when he smiles it’s like
summer light and teal
but he still has a plan
a dream to catch
and words that wait to heal

Copyright © 2016 Vanessa Peterson