I hear her voice say it,
I just don't believe
it,
a girl her age
(I subtract a decade
from how she really is,
me, too old to recognize
what her true age is, t
he way I did when I went
to college at age 30,
when everybody else was 19)
claiming she has "a thing for me,"
a foolish notion, I think,
when I hide my thing
for her,
only her thing might not be
the same thing I
have,
this weakness I have
for people
with talent I don't have,
especially when I see
them
with their whole future ahead of them,
when all of mine is
behind me,
I get jealous
her voice like an angel's,
when I sound like a frog,
her eyes so full of hope
and inner meaning
when I'm not clever or smart enough
to read their meaning,
she seeking me out in the dead of night
to tell me this,
and -- like the old blues song,
"She shakes me
all night long,"
only not in the way I might think.
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