For a moment, I thought I caught something
In the way you glanced over
In the way you caught my eye as if in a sudden flash of recognition
…at least I think you did
Could I be wrong?
I often am about such things… as lonely people can be on a snowy, despairing Sunday night
I never learned to play this game
Never got how strangers
Slipping, sliding
In between each other’s hearts
Sharing silent secrets
Only to later pass each other in the night
As if it never happened
As if lust didn’t matter
I tilt my head to get a better view
I watch as you slowly, deliberately, peel off your leather gloves
One by one
As if feigning a striptease
Your naked hands
Confess, possess
But a small stack of books
Chekhov, Jung, Stephen King
Lovingly held
Confidently held
I swallow hard and restlessly flip a couple of pages in the gossip rag I’m reading
Could I be in over my head?
But then, you turn to take another look
And my lashes flutter as if on cue
I decide to decide
That yes, you’ll do
Who cares what books we have in common
In the end
It always comes down
To the same dirty deed
To the same… despondent need
I take a sip of my green tea frappuccino-lite
Licking my lips
I push my breasts out, feeling foolish
And a little bit crazy that I’m still doing this at thirty-eight
I watch now
As you fumble to pay
For your creme cake, your pick of the day
I break a cold shiver as it dawns on me
That you might actually come this way
And if you did
What would I say?
Suddenly I fear the worst
But there you are anyway
Scouring my face, searching for acquisition
Or is it just a tumble that you’re looking for
No, no,
I don’t know you
Your approach is that of a stranger
My heart takes a sharp dip
Lunging low
Circling my jagged pulse as if to find a place to hide
Our eyes crush
Bravely, I take in your assessment
Of what I am – of what could be
I hold my breath and count to ten
You blink and walk away.

©MJ Donnery