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What I Can See This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   I begin by opening my eyes,

squinting through the slight glare of the rising sun.

This enormous yellow hemisphere low in the distance,

coming out of its night hiding.

As I walk down the street to the corner store,

at the counter,

I see him lounging,

waiting for customers to come it.

Anxiously, I stare at him,

from behind a shelf,

with a pile of bread loaves,

a mile high, trying not to be seen.



Now he's at the park,

watching his little sister,

or is it his sister?

I walk my dog,

my hair loosely draping over my face.

I tell my dog to stop its barking.

He's looking at me.

And though I am ecstatic to see him,

I feel like an idiot.

So I leave the park.



Now I've just made it on the bus.

He's ten seats back.

And I'm right behind him.

Right this moment,

the sun is beaming its gorgeous rays,

over the highest of trees.

Trees full of luscious green leaves.

The sun's in the center of the sky.

It's beautiful,

and I'm excited.



It's been half a day already.

He's still on the bus.

I'm still on the bus,

with no destination of my own.

I don't even know his name,

or where he lives,

or how old he is.



An hour has passed

and he's getting off the bus;

I guess this is my stop, too.

But where am I?

What am I trying to do?

I better hurry before I lose him.

And there he is.

Approaching a house.

His home, I assume.

And that girl outside the door,

indistinctly calling his name?

Perhaps, his older sister.

And then he kisses her.

A big long kiss.

His girlfriend, maybe his wife.

And that little girl in the park,

his daughter.



The sun is shining behind some cars now,

with the loveliest of lavender and pink light.

Now I'm on my way back home,

with leaves practically glued to my hair,

from that tree, where I concealed myself,

high above his house.

I never even got to know his name.

I'm not sure of anything at this moment.



When I arrive home,

a blanket of blackness fills the sky.

I feel so tired, so disappointed.

I just want to go to sleep.

There's not a thought in my head.

I feel horrible and depressed.

My head hangs heavy from this long day.

I can only hope to fall asleep,

and drown into the softness of my bed.

Then drift off,

floating through those smoky clouds.

And even with my eyelids practically sewn shut,

I can see the beautiful sun.




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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