He always sits alone at lunch,
The Roundheaded Kid.
(That's what they call him.)

He never talks to me,
But I wouldn't mind if he tried sometime.
I think I like him,
But I'd never tell him so.

Yesterday he looked at me,
Sitting by myself on this bench,
Eating peanut butter and feeling lonely
Especially when it stuck to the roof of my mouth . . .

I thought I saw something
Sparkle in his eyes.
(The Roundheaded Kid has nice eyes.)

But he saw me looking back,
And put his lunch bag over his head.