Calm girl, quiet.
Light skirt- leg bent at the knee,
a single stupid flip flop flat against the wall of the subway car.
Standing. Not far.

Feather earrings, big black eye lashes.
Old man, dead or alive?
Dear God his stoic, wrinkled expression never change, even if this train crashes.
Crinkling a newspaper.
Steam from coffee flowing overtop of it like a chimney.
Where are they going?

Wait a minute, time is kind of slowing.
Stupid flip flop girl, smiles at me.
My eyebrow rises in her direction, then falls.
Pencil never stopping, not for one second at all.
She knows, this is hello.

Straight cut bangs, right at her eyes.
Little, come at me smile.
Don’t worry, stupid flip flop girl.
I’m only playing mysterious - stupid writing guy for awhile.
Keep writing in your head, girl.
Maybe you’re one of those artists, keep drawing.
I see your head is as busy as mine.
Don’t worry, stupid flip flop girl.
Just let it happen and you will be fine.

Why does your eye keep wandering?
In my direction, but not at me?
This pencil won’t stop moving.
These words are for you, stupid flip flop girl, come and see.
You know this already.
You know what I will do.
Is it my wandering eye, too?
Mine sees your head, tilted ever so slightly down -
you let your hair hang over your eyes.

Why?
They lead straight into your thoughts.
Which are of, blue?
or black skies?
I can tell, they get out of control don’t they, stupid flip flop girl?
My intention for sitting in this New York subway,
was not to find your attractive mystery today.
Wait, thanks for moving your hair behind your ear.
Maybe its a habit.
It gives me a better view.
Of what you are, not what you appear to be.
You want me to see that, don’t you?

Nobody else does.
Says the tattoo of two doves,
on your wrist,
perched one branch of a branch ridden tree.
Stupid flip flop girl, why are they not flying far and free?
This empty train is becoming slow.
Are you about to go?

This is my stop, stupid flip flop girl.
I stand. With a pencil on top of my ear.
I drop this book near, “darling flip flop girl, this belongs to you.”

Not speaking a word,
you always knew.
With a smile you hold it in your arms.
This is always true.
First sight would never be enough to love you.
Cordially Yours,
that mysterious - stupid writing guy.
May any black, turn to blue skies.