Whenever I see her I think,
“Why aren’t we dating?”
It’s like I coded her DNA by hand,
Arranged her chromosomes to create
My perfect compliment. We hug in
Greeting, and when we hug, she rubs
My back. She is free with her smiles,
Uneasy in her stance. I usually sit.
When she moves her dress strap
To show me her new tattoo on her
Slender shoulder blade–just that simple
Exposure of skin makes my breath swirl
In my lungs. We hug again at the end.
As she turns to depart, I realize why
We aren’t dating. Neither one of us
Is brave enough to ask the other out.
A. J. Hayes
Give a poet a friend