Bookstore Boy

There's a me.
She's not here.

and there's a you.
that's hidden near.

a paradise
of books and coffee
so by paradise,
a library.

the hidden you
is there,
don't tell!
secret me
is there as well.

Their stolen glances
over hard binding,
more than Alaska's
what she's finding.

mystery me,
and yearning you,
yank us through
the bookshelves too.

Knees wobbly,
and eyes flicker,
stomachs
simultaneously
grow sicker.

We dodge and
move our separate ways,
just a smile...
on the better days.

Sometimes I really
wish I knew
the secret soul
inside of you.


2009