Front Row

A thin cheek viewed from the back and left
and I thought I saw you in a dance studio
by the river, sitting earnestly with your hand
against your ear and gazing, it looked like.

I caught a glimpse of your nose and it was not right
for you but neither was the shiny hair that I ignored
until you left, walking in front of her story about Hiro,
a Japanese hunter who wears pants like my grandfather
while he roots in the bursting of land, then
I couldn't pretend about it anymore.

I'm not sure why it felt so intimate in there.

A second time, a voice, tingling
with your voice, like your voice
With a hesitation that I made broad to nervousness
or maybe you talked like that in academia I didn't know
you were in academia even.

It was not convenient enough to hide your face
so I felt just like a liar making up my mind to look at you
It was an attempt, a conscious attempt, to recreate that other
moment, some minutes before.

I felt so guilty.

I spent several minutes with you sitting in the front row and you
sitting near the black railing speaking but I only felt guilty.

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