Perhaps if I had said hey instead of just hello,

with a half playful tone and smirk, 

instead of a reserved flatness and the smile of a waiter;

perhaps if I had attempted more physical contact

(because they say finger tips on the shoulder

and demonstrative hand gestures transcend personal spaces;

they go a long, long way) and I had pointed out

on your body, through touch, where my soreness was:

"there, there... and there."

Perhaps if I had asked you about your childhood 

and about your favorite food that afternoon in the theatre.

I stayed quiet during the performance

for fear of being too loud; though they also say

that whispers exist for intimacy's sake;

this is something I understood much too late.


Perhaps if I had spoken more,

thought less; gazed instead of stared; listened

closely; smiled more; told you how nice your shirt was

and that your face was the brightest thing I had seen

since I stared directly at the sun in 4th grade.

Perhaps if I had had a little courage; 

if I had slouched less-- stood up straight; 

if I had been a different person during those ten seconds

we sat in silence in my front lawn;

perhaps then you could have loved me. 

The End

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