A Poem by alan khan

not a poem just messing around


The man gave off an aura. Smoke. Not to say he was unpleasant to be near. Just that his face was sharp and bold to give one a sense of a deep oak. Of a dark and full flavored brandy. Of a Martini lacking in vermouth, zested with with a lime peel that has touched fire. He was New York without the neon. You looked at him and could see stoic street lights ignoring their reflection in rain covered streets. His voice was thunder and his face was the fog the following morning. The man was smoke.

© 2014 alan khan

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Added on February 12, 2014
Last Updated on February 12, 2014


alan khan
alan khan

Mint Hill, NC

I'm Alan Khan. more..

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A Poem by alan khan