I think about you a lot.
Do you? Yes, especially
when you're not near.
John looks towards the
sports field at the school.
Why about me? I don't know.
Elaine has let the words
out, but they're like
uncontrollable hounds.
I guess I think of you, too.
Do you? He nods his head;
sees a blackbird go in a hedge.
What do you think about?
You. What about me?
He looks at her, sees her eyes
like large puddles behind
her cheap-bought specs.
Did you mind? Mind what?
Me kissing you? She feels
his eyes on her; she tries
to hold the words in some
kind of order. No; I didn't mind.
He looks away; sees other
kids at play. I didn't mean to
upset you, just kind of happened.
What did? The kissing, the kiss.
She feels unsure; wonders
whether the kiss was meant
or not. Did you mean to kiss me?
He looks at her again; he sees
how dark her hair is close up.
Sort of, wanted to. He's not good
at words with girls; they make
his words come out all wrong.
Unexpected, she says, the kiss.
He nods, sees how soft her lips
( up close) now seem. Not kissed
a girl before. He watches her
scratch her head; her fingernails
seem chewed. Not been kissed
before; not by a boy, she adds.
She wants to say more; tell him
how it makes her feel inside;
how since the kiss, she's felt opened
up like an oyster in someone's palm,
waiting to be sucked out and in, but
she doesn't, she just stares at his nose
and a few protruding light brown hairs.