I call it... Frances: Bloom

She's never late
& her idea of where we should go
what we should do
& who we should be is the equivalent of mine.

The stillness of the garden
allows me to peel back that tense layer of confusion
most guys steer away from or don't bother to notice.

I don't like girls- but she's always been my type.

She presses her nose to a flower
& I'm heady with scents
that have yet to be contained in a glass or plastic container.

We've been here before
this comfortable place
but there's something new about it all.

Could it be how she looks the same but feels different?

Maybe it's the way she smiles to herself
& I smile back
hoping she sees me thinking the same thought
deciphering the same riddles.

Or maybe it's the way she doesn't even have to hold my hand
to make me feel wanted.

No, it's the way she mumbles random lyrics
to the same song blasting in my head.

She looks at me & laughs
& in making her f eel good
I find what no boy has been able to give me.

She's a girl- yes
& I catch people staring
so I check our reflection
& my infatuation grows tenfold.

Our image might confuse another
but it's the clearest of photos.

I'm the only one standing there
& it's the way it's always been

I've spent the day with myself.
My date was me.

=)

-franso