He looks at me
In a way
I’ve never seen before.
He looks at me like an infant does
When you’re suddenly scared it can read your thoughts.
He comes by it honestly
What I mean is,
He seems to come honestly.
A simple part of my heart
Has begun to override
— The complexity of asking too many questions.
— Of thinking too many thoughts.
But what more could one think?
Really, what’s the point of thinking more,
When a man who will hold down your skirt in the wind,
And writes poems about your laughter,
Looks at you like a fox
When you find that certain book.
