For five years, more, you were the sun around which I orbited. Maybe you’d say the same about me. Back then. We lived, breathed music, and each other and sometimes the lines blurred.
Across the room you’re with the tall brunette, her sunken cheeks and pouting lips make her look unhappy. That makes two of us. Then her face changes, her laughter swells.
Our eyes meet then. You’re grinning, but it slips away. You must have known I’d be here.
We stare. There’s no “Some Enchanted Evening.” This is purely “Positively 4th Street.”
end 8/1/2016
S. Darlington
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