70s Love
There’s a booth in my mind,red vinyl, split at the seams,where knees touch like a secret,and the air hums of coffee and sugar.
You sit across from me,fingers tracing circles on a chipped mug,your smile loose,like it’s been waiting all night to unfold.
The jukebox flickers in the corner,soft enough to let us stay lost in each other,loud enough to remind usthis moment isn’t ours alone.
I watch how the neon spills across your face,pink bleeding into gold,and think,this is how love should feel—close,unhurried,and warm enough to make the world outside disappear.
I wasn’t born for it,this 70s kind of love,but sometimes I wonderif I carry it anyway,a simpler achefor the kind of lifewhere finding youwas as easy as walking into a diner.
johnthegriot.com/poems/70s-love