Boys

All the boys in the world are wearing the same perfume. A scent like the flatness of the sea on a still day. Like tea at dusk. All the boys in the world are wearing the same leather jacket, slick as power lines. They lean against bars and don’t say much; their boots say it for them.
      All those boys, where are they going, smoking away their airfares. Whose beds do they lie in. Be gentle with these unsung hearts.