UNTITLED 2

Poem of uncertainty and inspiration

Does he see it?
There are no tears on my face
Did I fool him, them?
How about her? Can she see it?
Suddenly I feel like the clown at the circus
A painted smile, painted tears
Which doesn't need the stroke of the brush?
I starve for such an answer
I'm at the fulcrum
One step in either direction will indulge me in its gravity

My gaze took me out of reality
The car is gone
I never saw it leave and my eyes never moved from its position
The poetry of my gaze on the window takes me yet further into my spell
I think of his eyes
He makes me smile
There is no real attraction
But when he smiles.....
His eyes
I can't look away
He has always made me laugh
But his eyes when he smiles are
Soft
Inviting
Beautiful

The gleam....
I'm fixed
Locked in as though I am an addict
I know my mental photograph will never be enough,
Why does he make me smile?
There is another like him
I can't look away
This time I wonder - could they wash the paint to reveal a true smile?


shea 5-15-07