There, again, a man falling in love with you…
From outside, in the dark, looking up, as I walked
to his house, to the party, I could read his thoughts,
at twenty five yards, through the double glazing,
as he engaged himself with more than your words:
Even across that distance I can stand inside him,
in his forwardness, and I will unfix his smile,
slur his slightly-drunk words, thus letting him falter,
adjust his laughter to minimise its effect,
I would make him worry, too much, about his bad breath.
But, instead, I know my place this side of the glass,
where I can watch you, if I want to,
seeing how you make men fall in love with you,
in that accidental way of sweet smiles and
eye contact – the attractions that you make.