i saw stars in your eyes,
i read from a distance
and made you out to be
much smaller.
i found you out to be
nothing more than truth
for existential probability,
quite impersonal. i know.
with intention
i would move my head to
sip on oily day-old coffee,
but to avoid your view
was the main intent. words
move from whence your mouth,
and your eyes beg'd forth a response:
'i am not your Spanish dictionary.'