before she followed me out the door
after class;
her slow but steady
intention heavy
way of posing
queries about my motives
behind not noticing the leaves
turning corners,
misguided fall reaction,
unable to find a place
where a leaf has not already fallen
resting where I now stand
wishing it were spring,
warm and rotten,
like an apple you don’t see
until you are picking it out
from between your bare toes,
trying to tell yourself
that it really isn’t so bad
being the only one
who thinks that life is too long
just to sit around
messing with words
until they mean what you think they mean,
but she just smiled,
unaware of what exactly
she was asking me to do,
thinking that life is a long song
or a passionate play
to which I am cast,
but I shake my head
but she just smiled,
having shown her hand
and I wish the sleeves
of all girls
would be as soiled
with their animal opinions
and I reply,
“maybe I see you there.”
Poetry OR Poem
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