pining for youth

what does it mean anymore
to travel, and take to the wild?
i take the last train home
a dark, dimly lit black bullet
to unravel, and take to the wild.
i take the universe there,
just drowning in space and time
taking myself to the wild
for the sake of my inner child. 

playing it safe

relax.
you just missed the heart.
that’s all.
breathe.
he just missed the heart.
that’s all.
smile.
she just missed the heart.
that’s all.

when you text back within five minutes

she doesn’t want suave.
she wants real.
his smooth talking ways,
amuse her,
give her a laugh,
make her feel special.
but, nonchalance
is like jumping ship
letting the tide take her in
and showing her the world
like she’s never lived inside it before.

young lady in madrid, spain

i won’t see her again

but she was there
speaking in hushed, hurried tones
squinting so hard
i thought the sun was being rude

i won’t see her again

but she was there
smiling so wide and living life
making faces at the children around her
i thought the moon was taking long

i won’t see her again

but she was there
relinquishing control over time
lending an ear to my conversation
i thought the earth was spinning slowly

i won’t see her again

but she was there
walking over to me
talking at me and not with me

“hey, i know what you said.
we speak the same language, you know.”
i thought the stars were just for show

* * *

Mustafa Abubaker is the author of The Surrogate. He is currently working on a new novel.