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Collected Poetry

    (rd king dot net)
poetry and digital art

Beating Heart, Dancing Feet  

  In the Beauty of May 


There the teenagers stood, puerile
and classic, trying to look tough,

trying to look very cool against
the bright and natty wickedness

of the suburban mall.  Moot questions
they asked of one another.  Moot looks

hung on their sweet, bitter faces.
When girls walked by they stared

a hard stare that meant almost nothing.
When Jane and Sheila walked by

an indifference fell upon them all, each
side knowing maybe half the hard story.



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