Hunch

He leans back on the bar

Not really looking all that clever

But everyone seems to like him

Maybe he has something nobody can see.

 

He didn’t like the hunch

He didn’t like to fuck

He really didn’t like the things

She said to him in the truck.

He didn’t like the bitch in her

He didn’t like to fly

She asked him if he’d ever matured

But he didn’t like to cry.

 

When he saw her enter

He knew instantly she was something

More than what anyone else

Would have ever been.

 

But he didn’t like the way she talked

Or the way she said goodbye

The way she kissed him on the cheek

Then looked him in the eye.

He never called her by her name

He always called her ‘hunch’

Said it was like a nickname

With an extra little punch.

 

He goes up to talk to her

But looses his voice in the crowd

Then doesn’t really know

What to do after that.

 

He never liked the ways and means

The beginning, nor the end.

She said she’d like to stay in touch

But she didn’t really need a friend.

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4 thoughts on “Hunch

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