Just looking

I caught him looking

at me. He looked away

once our eyes met. That's what

we do when we're caught looking

at someone. I look away, too.

And we look at something else –

anything else. It ends

there, right? We just look away.

We just pretend we caught

nothing, and were never caught.

Does he dare look again? What if

I catch him again? I quickly

brush my hand over my face.

Do I have something embarrassing

hanging from my eyes, my nose? Run

my tongue over my teeth, check

for stray spinach. I look again,

but no. He's looking away

now; walking away, too.

I will never know his name.

(December 2011)