Blue Shirt

Why is it your blue shirt which I remember

That Thursday after school one cool September?

I clasped my coffee cup of styrofoam

And wondered if I should be gong home

And never heard a word you told me. – Why?

Because I thought your shirt was like the sky

At twilight, like the night sky in your eyes

Right after reading newspapers alone.

Your eyes had more stars than they'd ever shown.

It was my eyes that touched you, not my lips;

Your blue shirt never at my fingertips.