Brush Past

By
Sleeping on the desk
Head folded in arms
My hair spills over in a way that I hope is sexy
I angle my elbows so that you might see my angelic sleeping face
And even tempt myself to sleep for real
Even to dream about something that is not you
As I lull between this world and the next
My mind sinking into the velvet sludge of dreams
You brush past
And bring me back into reality
Now my heart is beating a little quicker
My mind is thinking a little faster
What if I was allowed to look at your face all day?
To drink in the shadows that I know your eyelashes make on your hollow cheeks
The laughter in your eyes
Instead of stealing glances
Putting you together in my head from ideas and patches of black faded hair black
coogie pants
Your shy laugh
And always your politeness That I can never seem to muster
even when I know I have to please and bless you
stumble awkwardly from my mouth
I look across the room and our eyes might meet for a split second I can't tell because I don't have my glasses on
But I think maybe
And then I put my head back into the dark crevice of my folded arms
And forget what you look like again
We spend two hours and a yard apart every Wednesday
And still I cannot talk to you





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