a party for two,
at separate ends of the room.
Starbucks and it's water maiden looming over our heads,
conducting our first encounter.
Transfixed in your eyes,
scanning over some pixilated nonsense,
oh how I longed to be the subject title of your attention.
Oh read the digits of my thesis,
veer your fingers to scroll down my index,
let me be the body paragraph that you sip over.
I long to touch you across the floor,
moving my desires over your unknown trespasses,
let me lose myself in your cashmere decors
so I can replace it with my silk printed interests.
Oh Starbucks maiden,
heed my prayer,
let us finish our overpriced refreshments at coincidental times.
Let us stand beside each other within your blessed,
and slow-moving lines,
so that the proximity of our bodies will answer for our introductions.
Allowing me to brush my hand against his,
as an ending paragraph seduction.
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