If I told you about the broccoli
on your upper lip
you might think differently of me.

Then again,
if you met the woman who would mother
your future little ones this very afternoon
you might also think of me
in a different light.

You talk about
the barbecue last weekend
and how Nancy drove you crazy
about Bobby who never stops calling Cindy instead of Jan;
But I hear none of it,
nodding in meditation on my little green secret.

Perhaps a bowl of soup was where
it lived before temporarily residing
on your vermilion border.
With every smile, "ooh", and upward Popeye blast of breath
to get the hair out of your face
I squint,
then I close my eyes,
then open them.

And three nods later
I say goodbye, wishing you
and your friend good luck
as I head for lunch.

© 2003 Chad Johr
RAMIFICATIONS
chad johr
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