anxious energy held her
and urged her along
almost aloft
working against logic
She stood where I
stood then and now
I can hardly reconcile
the shearing weight
of waiting
the shearing swirl
of butterflies
in dive formation
about my underbelly
I stare at the passing crowd
avoiding their
questioning glance
looking just past them
for the object of my affection
She looked
She saw
no, that’s not him
wrong color
too short
and still unresolved
how can she know
if he loves her
can she bear the weight
of not knowing
the anxious press
of an
hoping his flight came in

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