The Bar

I see you glance my way out of the corner of my eye.

What is it you see?

That time she called me babyfaced?
The mark I carry across my face?
The studs I wear as an act of rebellion?
All the memories that darken under my eyes?

You refuse to meet my eye.
Always looking busy the moment I turn to smile.

Are you ashamed?
Embarassed?
Scared?

What do you expect to find hidden in my eyes?

The first time I told her "I love you"?
The last time I said "it's over"?
The last time i let my father strike me?
The first time I spoke up?

You want to know more, but you know nothing to begin with.

Did you know?

I let her cheat on me?
She was the last?
I stopped saying "I love you" after her?
I'm scared to want someone, but more afraid to be wanted?

You're in over your head.

I'm to quiet to be of any use.
I like the little things, more than any big thing.
Sex should be slow and drawn out.
Momma didn't raise no quiter.

...
She laughs and wishes me well.
It was nice to see you again.
She looks me in the eye. Finally.

And just for a moment I hear her cadence behind my eyes.

"What is it you see?"
"What do you expect to find hidden in my eyes?"
"Did you know?"
"You're in over your head"

I chuckle to myself, and shake her hand.
Our eyes meet for the second and last time that night.

Until next time ladydude.