Superficial, the world around me is
Girlfriend, boyfriend, ex, ex thrice removed
I seek none of this
I seek true companionship
Don't expect it here
So tune out of the world
And lose myself in studies,
In seas of written word
And forests of paper.

Lose myself in words unspoken.

I lose myself, and time blurs together

Until the last hour of the day...
Where I am intrigued
By demure beauty

Days, weeks, months goes by
Day in, day out, I hear her sigh
She eyes me, but alas I am shy
My tongue twists itself in knots
As the merest thoughts
Of speech,
passing through my mind

Days, weeks, months
She sits not two feet away
An hour every day
Yet my words fortify themselves
In my throat
Refusing outright
To embarrass themselves where she might hear

She is pretty, and smart
Gifted in the art
Of language, hark!
Raising hand once and again
Never the first, never the last
But in the middle
She shows herself like I can never
Uneasy but brave
With the choking attention.

I cannot hope to match her.
So radiant, so intelligent, so observant
Oh well
She is a fair sight
Lucky to have her sit here to admire.
If only. If only.

Days, weeks, months....

But then....

My heavy pen, burdened by stupid, broken light
Drops with a loud thunk, a bite
And it seems to grumble like a grumpy bear
As it rolls under her chair


She smiles and hefts the flighty thing
And remarks "How heavy!"
I smile back and respond "Broken, but still works a little"
And I demonstrate
What the thing's dying battery can do.
A weak blue light,
And a crimson laser with but four inches range
Broken by clumsy curious hands
And ruefully glued, but damage done

But only days ago this happened...

Wait, did I just talk?


She laughs at it's uselessness
And jokes "What a pretty thing"
But her eyes look at me

I reply "Yes, a Fine sight on sore eyes"
"And such a refined thing, too"
I do not look at the pen either

I cannot believe, it's so outlandish!
Me, speaking, casually too??

My thoughts falter and die
As eye met eye


Our gaze captures the other's
And deep inside see kindred spirits
Of intellect and quirkiness
Buried by admonishing embarrassment
Turned shyness


She smiled shyly. I return it.
I point at her book
With the pen, so heavy
And remark quietly "That author is excellent."
She smiles and points at mine with pencil plain
"Yours, never heard of him."

Thus the self-issued sentence of isolation ends
And a true friendship begins

Days, days, days

Fly by, fly by in moments
Hours hours hours, I'm there!
Moments... moments... moments...
each day's destination that one hour

Talk constantly
Perplexing the teacher
These two shy ones,
Suddenly bursting at the seams with words
Their Hands now competitive
In their demand of attention
And a smile for each loss or victory both
Surely an odd occurrence

Days, days, da-


The long drought starts.
She leaves for the loved, distant forest
I leave for the damned desert

And I contemplate her constantly
Unable to cast her from my thoughts

Invariably I clutch the pen
That made it happen
And beg
Let it happen again

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, fortnights, months, the whole damn season creeps by, agonizingly slow and hot and dry and brown and dead and hated.

Endless pacing, endless scribbling,
all useless, all mind numbing
The dust gets everywhere, almost demands hate and attention

Cannot stop thinking of her, cannot stop thinking of her

The damned desert whines daily.
Winds singing sad songs
Just another thing to loath about the seas of barren dust.
Oh, I want to see green and trees and animals again!

Last week. Endless week. Four days. One day. Plane ride.
Home. Pitter patter, it's raining.
I laugh gleefully, and the street runs brown from the dust
Washing it from me.

Two hours! Fix everything, straighten, scourge the dust from everything!

One hour fifty minutes. Pace. The pen is warm in my hand.

An antagonizing quarter hour.

Five. Minutes.

Eternities of waiting!

Time. It's time.
Jog for the place, cannot wait another damned second!

I meet her at the bus stop
As we planned that final, ambushing hour
A season, a century before

I hold the pen
Now dry as well as broken and scratched
And I hold it's twin, new and shiny
For her, with wide smile gracing her face
We squabble playfully for the broken one
It remains mine, she deserves the new

At length, we compare yellow sheets
That will command our fates
For the semester


We smile eagerly.

I push broken button
On the wonderful pen
And the blue light shines bright,
miraculously fixed itself

It shines,
As if to say...

Your welcome
And thank you