Are You Older To Me ?

Eight steps away, he stood,

Amidst the smoke, he smoked.

His veins popped Green,

Over his wheat like skin.

I place the hand beneath my chin,

Metaphorizing his apparent age to mine.

Remember those delighted little girls, 

Tossed, tickled and furled.

Their young adult neighbors,

Perquisitely whom the dolls favor. 

The gaze that they give at them,

From beneath with heads up and a long stare...