Roadside

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He said you have a soft smile

like wool, able to bend and quench anger.

He said the sun would melt at the sight of you,

because you were too hot to be gazed upon.

He said you’re a breathing star,

the first of your kind.

He said he could fit perfectly in your dimples,

and in your breast lieth a fountain of comfort.

He did say all these,

he kept saying

basking in lines he had crammed from an anthology,

until he had said too much.

His mouth began to lick lies,

a basket of unfiltered hyperboles.

Then you knew,

that road boys are almost always time wasters.