August 27, 2010

pages of nothing

Dozens of starts
Definitely no middles
And no ends

He is the fiction to my distant reality
Clamoring for air buried
Under the magnets of my desire

He stands next to me
I can smell him
He smells clean
Like he just stepped from the shower

He smells like bubble gum
Spearamint or cinnamon
Popping and snapping

He smells like leather and rust
Every breath I inhale imparts essence of this man

Tornados of butterflies tumble in my stomach and my knees weaken
Popping and snapping

We pass each other
Buried in the noise surrounding us
We don't speak
Smiling at each other

He flashes his huge white grin
The kind of grin that should have the flash and ping of a toothpaste commercial
The kind of grin that makes women swoon
The kind of grin
That makes me look to the ground for fear that my face will give away my undefined feelings

When he looks at me
He holds me in his sight
I fall under his spell
Patient and expressive eyes
Twinkle and sparkle

Like puppy dog eyes or chocolate
When he looks at me
I can only look back
There's a stunning magic in those eyes
Twinkle and sparkle

I can't imagine how he can see me as anything but weird
He'll ask me a question
Make a pleasant comment
My only reply is a jumbled assortment of letters
A nervous mish mash of sentence fragments

On a good day I'll say,

As he repeats himself
I'll use the time to form a complete thought
I try to speak intelligently
Hoping my cheeks won't get red

In the back of my mind
Careless thoughts
How do I look
What are my hands doing
I'll think about the direction my hair has retreated
If I have smudges on my face
Or if I have any bits of lunch in my teeth

I watch words slip from between his lips
His eyes move from my eyes to what he's talking about
I look at his chin and his ear when he looks away

Just a split second

I look at the shortness of his dirty blonde hair
Resting on the back of his neck

His well cast forearm moves in front of him
Orchestrated by his calloused hand
Muscular fingers pointing and gesturing
Complimenting his every word

His strides are graceful
Floating as he walks
Owning the room he's in
Letting his presence flow through it
Flow through doors and windows
Flow through me

Engaging and gregarious
Encouraging and inspiring
Helpful and open
He must snack on magnets because I'm drawn to him
Drawn to this untouchable being

So I write
And I write
Pages and pages of nothing

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