Cold, numb palms press against
worldly windowsill wonders
spare a curious glance, my dear
at the boys walking down
the cracked bricked streets;
they tip their hats and quietly lock
feather snowflakes into fists
and crush their flakes to crystalline
and throw it into each other's eyes;
(and the while you wait for a bloody fight)
they fall into a million smiles.
And you can stare at them, amused
for they feel far and wild and loud
you watch them skip and trip and crawl
and watch them bleed and rise and fall;
boys walking down the cracked bricked streets.
i remember the time when i was a very little kid with a half eaten chutney-sandwich in my hand, staring at the boys in my class shout and howl. and i remember thinking back then, "how is it like to be a boy?" and i had no clue whatsoever.
there is this line in Boys Will Be Bugs by Cavetown where he sings, "what's it like in a female world, i bet it's just so much better," and i guess it reminded me of the way i was intrigued by boys.