[Just Look At You]



The Elder Statesman in me,
beloves the unspun texture in your smile,
the way your fingers brush-browse
the decrepit pages of Petit Dictionnaire Classique,
how your skin glistens like Aphrodite out of myth,
enamored rogues,
false in their corruptible way
bone dullness,
companionable conceptus,
swallowed in blankets,
Mezz Mezzrow on vinyl



Dontrell Lovet't
from, [If It Be You]