Sunlight in My Palms and You
He smells like old paperback books and engine oil—a man whose
Street-side Poet
Sugar Dust and Grease Stains
He’s got oil under his fingernails and a laugh that sounds
The Neon Chill and a Warm Heartbeat
My fingertips are still numb from the AC in that glass tower,
Blue Ice and Calloused Hands
He smells like diesel fuel, cheap tobacco, and a kind of honesty
Black Silk and Grease Stains
I wore this suit like armor to a gala where people spoke
Leather and Lace in a Concrete Jungle
I wear this leather jacket like armor, a second skin that tells
Neon Dust and Warm Wool
The city is a concrete beast that never sleeps, and I’ve
Salt Water and Diesel Dreams
I’m standing here on a deck that smells like old oil
Gold Skin and Grease Stained Hands
I’m standing here in a bikini that costs more than my
The Warmth and I’m Not Talking About a Coat
I used to think the city was just concrete that learned how
The Salt and My Skin
I’ve spent ten years scrubbing my hands clean in a city
Gold Dust and Concrete Hearts
The city don't care if you're bleeding or
