In Your Flaxen Hair Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Talking in tongues of
Landmines
The night smells really
Wonderful
Like how I imagined
Your bedroom to
Smell in the
Middle of tenth grade,
While I promise myself I’ve
Made it through
Greater wounds than this
While the
Alligator watches me
With sweet promise on
Its lips,
And I swear I haven’t seen
A better pare of eyes
Inside a decade while
Up ahead the traffic
Moves like
Unbound ribbons
In your flaxen hair.