Kerri Shying R # 418 young men, again

young men, again

you have me   smile

 your warm

 butter smile   follow

 about the pharmacy

he’s a chatterbox   all six four

a hundred kilos   an open paddock

of a face   tells me how he took his mates

to tapas  for the first time

and they rise up

coming through the screen doors

in cricket pads

these giants faces  

how they fell   even in that

 buzz box   excitement

the platters   bite sizes

 odd number appetisers  

aching on politeness

  smart casual

the unbumbled manhood

me too much

 the kindly old woman he knows

 to talk to    to say

  oh love

did you stop

did you get something

to eat 

on the way home

we sniffed

 the beard soap

while I waited for my script

he told me

how      maybe

the woman      she

likes the smell her man has

maybe