When you avert my gaze
it seems as though you are shy,
as though I’m some beautiful girl
who wouldn’t want to know you.
Perhaps you are
divining futures from the clouds,
the tops of trees,
We drink our coffee
you do not look me in the eye.
Instead you gaze at the space around my head
as if I exist there beside myself,
to whom you can address your comments,
who will hear you better,
will answer you in some enigmatic way.
I grow jealous of her,
knowing that to look into
the dark of her eye
is to be stripped bare
and once seen like that
you can never be clothed again
no matter how many brightly coloured shirts you try.