< back to poetry index

 


naive


He's never said, "Hey, baby,"
taken drugs or hit a girl.
Eyes the ghost of blue are far 

too pale to hold more than
innocence.  Or less, I guess.

He's too naive for 11-bus stock,
but still he's waiting with the rest.
I wonder if they'll scare him,
make him see things about life
he'd rather not. Maybe 20, and
I think his fingernails have
never been dirty.

Beautiful, he looks as though
he can't know our language,
or maybe any at all. Words
could crack those iceburg eyes.
But as I walk past, I hear
from innocent lips,
"Hey, baby."

 

 

poetry | prose and stuff | pictures | grammar | recommendations | rants | links | what's new | FAQ | email me


all written works © April Palleria, 2002