I didn’t see him at first
tall, well-muscled, the kind of guy who would
throw me over his shoulder, run along the beach
lie me down in the sand and gently kiss my lips
the waves crashing in rhythmic beats.
As I move up in line, I can feel his eyes on me,
his stare that sends me yearning to turn around
crawls up my back, slow and deliberate
the way his hands might unbutton my shirt
slip inside to touch my soft skin.
I glance over my shoulder when I tell the cashier
exactly what I want, stand up a little taller
arch my back, a cat sauntering through a room
head cocked, hair flipped, one who knows
she is being watched.
Every time my eyes meet his, he looks away
but I catch his stare in the rounded
corner mirror, a conduit for our coquetry
that captures me as I raise the corners of my mouth
just slight enough to give him hope.
– Jennifer Novotney