Daydreams (Press)

I sit,
back leaning against
the smooth, warm tiles,
the sun glaring brightly,
forcing me to squint
as I gaze around the school yard.
I can see cars driving
lazily into the parking lot,
around the circle,
as if the heat of the day
forces them to creep along,
as though driving through syrup.
Not the thin, runny kind you get in
breakfast diners, but
the thick, mapley syrup your
parents always serve with pancakes on
Christmas and Easter,
the kind that practically glues them
together and stops all conversation.
Distant shouts carry over from
the soccer field as the
various members of the track and
soccer teams begin stretching...
One, Two, Three, Four...
Already moving sluggishly in the
sultry weather, barely even
fifteen minutes into practice.
I try and pick my friends out of the
tiny, almost indistinguishable figures
until I feel something brush against
my arm and I turn to see
you
slip next to me on the bench.
I freeze, and words trickle slowly
out of my head, landing
helter-skelter in the mud at the
base of the wall and leaving my mind
blank.
You smile, say "hey," ask how I'm doing
and I reply casually,
trying to mask my nervousness with
a smile, as I twirl strands of
my hair around my fingers restlessly
and cross and uncross my legs.
You notice, and on your face I
can see you making these as
nervous habits as a flash of confusion
precedes a look I take to signify understanding.
So you know now, then?
Know it's all because of my feelings for you?
Our conversatin continues, and
you reach out without thinking and touch
my arm, briefly, emphasizing a point,
hand resting lightly on my sleeve.
You pause, and in your eyes I can
see your feelings, thoughts
a mirror image of mine,
reflecting, as you lean in,
brush the hair from my face,
and kiss me.