April 20, 2009
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He glanced every six minutes,
I guess
To see if I was still looking
Or staring
It wasn’t his intelligent tone
He had while carrying a conversation
Or the strong laugh he would blurt with his friends
It was the way he would lean against the flag pole
And slightly slur his eyes in my direction
His thuggish appeal is what
Captured my attention
Making me lean in closer
Putting every word of his banter
Into snippets in my head
So I can read them later
This was the eighth time he looked over
This time he stood up,
We made eye contact.
But he never said anything
They never do.

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