My Crush

By Will Schmidt

Warm could describe her eyes.
Not like a flaky croissant, fresh from the oven,
warm like the way your momma hugs you.

Just the other day
her smile
took first place in a beauty pageant.
Close contenders include:
The Hanging Gardens of Babylon and
Le Tour Eiffel à minuit.

I lit up a Marlboro Red the other night,
and the sultry curls of the smoke, glazed by moonlight
brought my memories to her chestnut hair.


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