Pas de Deux

I see her in school, and on the road, and at the beach, and in my mind. She said little at first, as if to test my resilience. The affair has yet to see its sunrise, but we both can feel its imminence, though neither of us would ever admit it. My stomach quivers profusely before bedtime, and as I wake, and at every point in the day when I anticipate her enlivening appearance. She makes me nervous, intimidated, gentle.

She looks more stunning everyday, her eyes more captivating, her voice more distinct and… and homey. Like a baby clinging to his mother I try to stay close to her, to keep my voice in her head, my words in her mind. I want to be outwardly confident without being hopelessly naïve… she wants me… or does she?Stranger today, familiar next week, friend the next… how far will it go? My stomach still quivers- what a feeling.

She amiably smiles at me, and I in my utter whipped-ness declare victory over her heart in an instant. Then I step back, attempting to compel myself to conjure up one even-tempered thought based not on the mindless rumblings of my effervescent heart, but on my pressing reality. Am I being set up, taken for a ride in a ramshackle caravan of bleakness? Am I deceiving myself with misinterpreted statements and hypothetical proposals? Am I even worthy?

I try to woo her, not with titillating lines and colossal gestures I can’t afford, but by doing that which I know best- being myself. Sanguinely I desire that one day I’ll somehow spark the proverbial light bulb in her head- “I really like this guy!” But maybe we'll remain like this perpetually. Of this I'm certain: I love this feeling!