It drew attention in the way he teased
And his preppy vest and all too known smug
Emo sense of a know it all; just a hint of arrogance.
In spoken twists of old money charm-
The keys hidden in undeveloped suggestions.
Off beat in the classic rhythm and city vibes;
Sixty era signed remnants of once horse ridden streets-
Why it comes in waves and hits of vibrations;
Just wondering if he remembers the back seat.
A grave yard near her house smoking weed
With a dead lady named Dina. Always ironic-
Sparking something which could only hit
Musicians; Artists alike colliding like lovers.
Ironically; perfectly and almost enchanted-
Woven together ever so perfectly like a lyric
Waiting for the strums of accords
Like it does when the heart recognizes a mate.