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Posts Tagged ‘cool’


 
 
Sam teaches me how to
not look like a tourist.
Never look up, he says.
Don’t look back or around.
Don’t pause; keep moving.
Even if you don’t know
where you’re going.
This is when I know
two things: One: I love Sam.
How cool he is. The bullet train
efficiency of his attention.
How he loves me enough
to want to help me be cool.
Two: I will never be cool.
I will always be a tourist,
even in my hometown,
will always be spinning
mid-street with wonder,
finding too much delight
in men with green fuzzy pants.
As if such pants are not
a knob for joy. Not to mention
the scent of almond croissants.
Pink shine of neon in a puddle.
Yellow bow on a baby’s
bald head. But for a night,
I follow Sam, “Like this?”
I ask as I don’t pause to fancy
the basket of persimmons.
But I can’t hide the bright flash
of gratefulness that rises for him.
It’s not cool, but I could pause
all night to admire Sam strolling
down 37th, lanky and brave,
his nonchalance integral to
the togetherness of things.

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