Graffiti stained granite,
daubed with the markings of life.
Incendiary slogans shout for freedom,
there's a revolution in the making.
The too handsome stranger
has words that spin like plates,
and sparkle like screw top bottles,
all fizz and wasted glass.
Straight backed, he will not slouch,
though fervant desperation
spills from the cracked
cheap vessel of him.
She sweeps up the cold ash
as it falls from his burnt out life.
Cleansed of all her preconceptions,
she is taken by his strange beauty,
enchanted by the wild shine of his eyes,
and the way that the afternoon light
falls gently around his shoulders,
like a cloak.
written for this prompt