I see her run into his office
with pad in hand and I get jealous
thinking of old Episodes of Kung Fu,
where the elderly
master
offers instruction to
his pupil,
the word
"grasshopper" leaping to mind,
although she uses the word "cub"
to describe herself, with me, and now with him,
the next face on this
small totem pole,
she reaches for, mine
already history in her mind,
a set of shoulders
for her to stand on
so she can embrace the next face,
and he, gobbling up
all her attention,
the perfect mentor,
who aches to have someone like her
with her big eyes,
looking adoringly at
him,
even when it’s clear
she see passed him.
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