by Jeff Glovsky
Will you really stare, my love? Like you expect I’ll give my seat up? Do you really think I’m interested in how your feet are faring?
You might contemplate removal of your eyes from off my shoulders; weight oppresses me, and I’m not moving…I’ve not finished eating yet.
My coffee’s not quite cold.
You’re cool, though…got it going on! Aware at least of how to seem in public, what to be, and wear…Might like you.
…Do you really stare?