When we were in grade six
my friend and I would
hide inside cement holes
atop trees
bottom of slides
at the park
where Paul R. played.
One time at a party on Mill Road
I kissed him in the dark closet
seven minutes in heaven
as his soft lips found mine
it felt like heaven
after that we became acquaintances
he would wink, smile,
look at me
then in high school
he was some what of an Anglo saxon God
among the girls.
At Foufounes he wore this cowboy hat
and ran across the dance floor
to say hello
we chatted
and I still was not in love
his looks could kill you, I thought.
My friend loved him
and nudged me
but I knew Paul R.
was one to never have
or his David Bowie obsession
would become yours
his acting dream
would make you move to New York.
So I didn’t succumb to those winks
his eyes were not for me
but when we say his name
there’a a silence
his aura, his attitude
could weaken your No
and now I never run into him.
But that look of his
was entrapping
I had eyes for
only one
foolish me.
Some things never change.

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