Socks and Sounds

Stand in line in the cool air
Only perfect people get in the way
Trees and flowers grow thick
On an empty patio lit by park lamps.

Fingers wrap around a bottle of beer
Talk is stunted but want to do better
Shadows on late evening skin, pen held awkwardly by a left hand
Wonder what it feels like, what it takes.

Thumb through the shelves, anything else to do
Don't drink coffee and just as expected, it’s too late anyway
A passenger with the best view
Music is soft enough to talk a little more.

The end is quick and in black and white
Ancient and unwelcomed memories and a tear or two
A clean face, warm socks, and familiar sounds
Should’ve been more like her or anyone else.