His Secret Valentine

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    His Secret Valentine

    He plays at night in city streets
    in neon skylit hope,
    and follows 'hind a night time lass,
    a gal in need of soap.

    His heart beats hard with ev'ry step
    of swishing baggy pants;
    he peers through shadows off East Vine
    to watch her moonlight dance.

    She twirls and spins between each can;
    she dines on lower Vine...
    he rushes in to promenade
    his secret Valentine.

    They dance the Rumba 'neath the moon
    with squeals of pure "delights";
    beauty's in beholding eyes
    for vagrant socialites.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    GDMartin’s Poems (6)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Silent Song 1
    Despite The Tears, Second Letter 1
    In Barrack Halls 0
    His Secret Valentine 0
    I Wish I'd Known 1
    A Simple Text 1