wait!

wait!

she tells him

her eyes flushing a

wild forest green that matches

the t-shirt she wore that morning,

the ratty holey grungy 

tattered cloth that perches gently 

on the dimples of her 

angular shoulder blades

wait!

she says again as his gait maintains forward mom-en-tum 

the humble shuffle of his soft feet

tip-tapping in a constant tempo

wait!

she says, one final time

and the curved arch of his back

transfigures, twists, squirms,

his muscles-

aching to be with her

not daring to turn back 

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