The Oh-So Close Encounter

Perhaps it’s best
when you just meet and that’s it.
Just, “Hi, I’m Joe” and move on.
But it’s those times when
the hairs stand up on your arms
and the heat takes
the express elevator
from the basement to your face
that make those first encounters
so blissfully painful.
Then you find your gaze
lingering on how she’s
brushing her hair from her face,
how she holds you in place
using only her eyes,
how she closes the space between you
upon those perfect legs and
places her hand on her neck,
and there’s little stagecraft
you can use to cover up your
instantly besotted state.
Next thing you know,
she’s touching your arm
and you’re lost in imaginary
together times ahead,
where it’s more than just your gaze
lingering on those
aforementioned perfect pieces
of ideal womanhood.
That’s when she says,
“It’s been nice meeting you,
… John,”
and the gravity of that moment
takes all those Up items
you’ve just encountered —
hairs, eyes, temperature,
dreams, expectations, and such —

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