two months ago, you followed his eyes around
the room until they stopped at you
when they met, there was no kinetic energy
no smile, no twinkling, no magnetism
you wandered over the plateaus of haggard desks and meadows of dynamic shoes
bought train tickets to the minds of girls and boys
exhausted them all, transferred to a bus
back to your own
stopped before you could take pictures of all
your ticket stubs
four months later, you leap, sketch rivers and
centroids and double hydrogen bonds
point of concurrency: a pair of eyes
Polaroid pictures and gel pens and college-ruled lines amalgamate before you can stop
to wait for a flash, a receipt, a turn of a page
you give your heart permission to walk with someone new
don’t let it be led out of sight