Joey Tribbiani

Man walks through the door,

Colored in so many ways.

Red,

Blue,

Green,

Indigo.

 

His eyes wide open,

Lips pink as blush.

Dark brown hair,

Cut short,

But not too short. 

 

His arms out,

Like he is going in for a hug.

Instead his mouth opens,

He strings together a sentence.

‘Could I be wearing any more clothes?’