of this list in my pocket,
the movies you want me to see.
Folded in squares,
wrapped up in its thoughts,
the margin has been torn off.
I'm a little too happy
when meeting you for coffee,
pretending to do some work.
You'll always inquire as to
what's in my cup
and pause to false-sip some out.
I'm a little too reminded
of that moment by the car
when you held my two braids.
You pulled my head gently back
by those two pig-tails
to stare upside-down into your face.
I'm a little too captured
by the soft gaze I meet
when brown eyes find blue.
That multifaceted look,
with a joyous laugh of its own,
glues me to the spot.
I'm a little too torn
between present company
and one who knows me better.
One who makes me laugh
until I cry
over movie lists, coffee, and pig-tails.
