When my cheeks are warm and red
I hope that your hands are cold and clammy
I hope that your legs are shaking
When my foot is bouncing off my knee
In anxious anticipation of a two-sentence conversation with you,
I will be vacillating between “hello” and “hi”
Careful to pick the one which is cute but coy
And I hope that you will be deciding
Whether to answer with “good” or “fine” when I ask you how you are
But as I gather courage to glance in your direction
I also brace to see that you are not sweating
And you are not shaking
And you do not care whether I ask you how you are
Much less whether you will respond with “good” or “fine”
Which hardly lessens the pain when I follow your gaze to her
Your sweating hand
Your shaking leg
Your anxious mind
All for her
I hope she cares---that it’s all for her