Give me a second glance.
Do you see? Are you looking?
Raindrops must be distracting him.
Pull the band from blonde tresses, toss them around;
now he's paying attention.
My looks back are furtive,
pretending I don't notice him behind me.
Rocking to music he can't hear,
lean in close to the mirror, check makeup:
pucker kissable lips, eyeliner entrancing.
The light is still red.
He must see the looks I'm giving.
I'm doing this for you, I say;
far apart, can't touch or speak (as we wish)
but this is for you:
kisses made (perhaps) to the mirror,
furtive glances may be innocuous,
or they might just say how much I want you.
The light changes.
Author notes
Conceived while waiting behind a pretty girl at a traffic light, 4-12-2009.
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