@ 27.105 MHz: Encounter, Seemingly Random; But Hearing Of It, I Doubted

At the old Poet's grave:  he was slenderly

beautiful--long hair, clad in a button-down

teal dress shirt (cuffs unbuttoned), casual gray

slacks and dark blue socks that clung to the contours

of his shapely feet;

 

the stern confinements of stiff shoes abandoned;

and when you asked about that, he said, "This is

"holy ground."  Later, walking---yet unshod---with

you, he answered the repeated question, "It

"just feels very nice."

 

You knew he knew how much you were attracted

to him---your responses very obvious

in more than one way (not just the profound need

that your eyes disclosed when he looked into them).

His blush and shy smile

 

seemed more eloquent than any words.  Later,

while dancing with you, he was still shoeless; and

others stared enviously (and hatefully)

at you---a typical high school nerd, with that

gorgeous babe? (their words)---

 

you asked the question once more, and this time he

told you, "Because you like it so much---I can

"tell---and that's cool and hot at the same time"; then

he kissed you, putting his arms around you as

the music climaxed.

 

Starward

 
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