Ever the Romantic

I think this sounds better aloud than just read. It's not deep, just personal. KJ

How long his forehead pressed to glass,

could it be the whole school year past?

Boy waving on bus from home to school,

hoping that someone, me or you’ll

cotton to the notion and mirror the motion.

Did he start in September, back in the fall

which is when you & I met, not expected at all.

I remember your fingers strumming,

me, you, your guitar humming.

I placed my palm on the small of your back,

the heat from that momentary contact

still tingles my hand, sensation grand

& utterly unplanned.

It would be so easy: call it mere crush.

Aren’t I always so quick to rush?

The impulse to discount the attraction,

deny the chemical reaction,

degrade to pleasant distraction.

Then in February again we stood

together at the pagoda in the wood,

all fleece collar & knit hat,

talking this, talking that.

Your restless hands on café table;

me, both full & empty, not quite able

to do more than sip ginger tea,

everything coming out awkwardly.

The sun blazes, a time to cheer;

school’s sweet release is near.

Summer promises everyone, pass or fail,

a chance for adventurous tales.

Soon at your home I will appear,

behold you in your own sphere,

my heart full of both hope & fear.

For some reason, my heart is patient for you.

What is between us? Friendship? Love so true?

At this point, there’s no way to know,

only the prospect of seeing time flow.

Now is not the moment, it’s clear.

Children must grow up not there, but here.

In the meantime, I’ll flirt with more than a few.

Probably take a lover or two.

Definitely get a third tattoo.

Not really sure what you will do.

Yes, these feelings may disappear.

But what should I do? Shed a tear?

I choose to be that hope-filled boy

waving with undemanding joy

to the urban indifference,

waiting for a moment’s chance

that someone will be brave,

return his wave. And it’s true: I do.

(cc) Karen G. Johnston