I tend to gaze at his look
I tend to gaze at his face
Like a song with a hook
He asked “are you ready to play?”
We were playing basketball but I was playing another game
His sweat was like scent
And his walk was like a trace
I know I shouldn’t look
But I watched him feeling so gay
I wonder if he ever realized that I was envious of The simplest things
Like how he dribbled the ball
And how he wanted to touch my chest and walked away saying
“ good game”