A Poem
I wish I knew you well enough
to write a poem.
But I wouldnt write about the fact
that you come from Sioux Falls, South Dakota,
or that I tried to sneak away
from my family when we went there
to look you up in the phone book.
I wouldnt write about the time
my friends faithfully combed the halls of Mary with me,
stopping triumphantly at 209
to read the messages on your marker-board.
There arent any messages there from girls, my room-mate whispered.
I wouldnt write about how I count
the windows on the second floor of your building
every time I pass itone, two, three, four, five
until I find yours,
or how I laughed
the first time I noticed the giant stuffed Pikachu
hanging from your ceiling.
I wouldnt write about your green jacket,
bleached hair, baggy jeans, Hawaiin shirt or
brown eyes.
I wouldnt write that you listen to Blink 182,
or that youre the quietest one at the table
when you eat with your friends
or that your handshake is firm even though its hesitant,
or that you believe that God
is all-powerful.
I wouldnt write about the light behind your eyes
when youve discovered something new,
or that youre only a Freshman
or that you say my name with an exclamation point!
not a period.
I certainly wouldnt write about
the masochistic satisfaction I gained
when I sat at the front of the bus
to watch you through the windshield
as you brought a brown-haired girl to your room.
I wouldnt write about the knot in my chest, or that I
couldnt sleep that night.
I wouldnt write that Im in love with you.
Because Im not.
I dont even know you well enough
to write a poem.
Text file Source (historic): geocities.com/the_real_sedeara/Poetry
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