He always wears a button-down shirt

And I sit down next to him in French

He ran away by plane when he was sixteen

Lived on an island in the Pacific

He talks like he knows everything

But especially like he knows you

There's no introductions with this guy

We talked about the art exhibit in the hall

He's making references to things I don't know

So I tell him and he patiently explains

In class he told everyone how he found God

I wonder if I can tell him how I lost Him

He wears a leather shoulder bag

And carries his passport in his jacket

I imagine that he ponders leaving

Every morning before putting on his tie

I sat next to him by accident

But now I'm determined to stay forever

I work at the library, bored and alone

And he walks in dripping and pretty

Leans up against the counter and says hi

He warns me not to become a librarian

Because he read something about it once

I nod, smile, and ask him why he ran away

He tells me a story Hemingway would pay for

Ask to see his passport. He's from Minnesota.

His car broke down a few miles away

So I let him use the phone. Dial nine.

Our French team wins the contest every time

He says it's because I'm competitive

I tell him it's because he's smart

We got the same score on our SATs

It's stupid but it's what I've got

He always says he's gonna fail and doesn't

I always say it too. I'm a woman of my word

I don't know where your cowboy went

But mine says hi to me in the hallway

And his hair's always that messy perfect

I never left my room when I was sixteen

Isn't it romantic to think of running away

Only three more weeks of chance encounters

He smiles and we say see you in class