Poetry Journal

Issues / Volume 5 Issue 1 , July 2015


He was very smooth

Bruce Shearer

  He was very smooth. 
  That’s right there was no doubt about it. 
  I think it was his voice? 
  Or his sparkling eyes. 
  He had it. 
  Something or other. 
  He wasn’t that handsome. 
  No, not in the typical way. 
  Not in any way. 
  But yet. 
  I’ve got to admit it. 
  Even against my better judgment. 
  Perhaps it was the smile. 
  He could light the room. 
  When he wanted. 
  But he could turn it on and off. 
  Oh yeah, I’ve seen that. 
  He was kind of oblivious to his powers of charm. 
  Mostly, but he also knew what he wanted 
  And generally got it too. 
  He was very smooth. 
  Too smooth by half.         
  Did I ever speak to him about it?
  Oh I tried time and time again. 
  He’d give you a wink. 
  And a bit of a smile. 
  Then you’d almost forget what you were saying. 
  People don’t realise I’d say. 
  Particularly the ladies. 
  They think you’re serious. 
  And I am serious he’d say, with a laugh that was half growl. 
  It wasn’t just the words, it was the way he’d say them.  
  With those eyes just seemingly, casually, locking deep into their souls. 
  It was too easy. 
  Far, far too easy. 
  He didn’t respect it, he didn’t respect what he had. 
  Because he knew it wasn’t fair. 
  It almost embarrassed him. 
  Yes he couldn’t handle it. 
  Nor could I. 
  He’d often go missing. 
  Wouldn’t see him for days. 
  Then he’d reappear. 
  As if nothing had happened.