you're sitting alone on the subway
you look nice in those glasses
(i've always had a thing for glasses)
and the best look of intensity upon your face
like you're solving the world's mysteries
by staring at the scribbles of ink
upon that page

you're reading jane eyre
i never cared for the novel myself
but the watching you read it
makes me wish
that it were my favorite book
in the whole wide world

so i could sit by you
and note enthusiastically your
reading of it

so we could discuss for hours on in
the themes allusions metaphors similes
the underlying plots and concepts
that we've picked up from
our tenth time reading it
(but we'll read it again,
just in case we missed something)

so we could fall madly, hopelessly
in love with one another
and find new books to read
and new things to discuss
at three in the morning
when not even the insomniacs
can keep their eyes open any longer
but we're wide awake
lost in inky bliss
and the warmth of my gaze upon yours

what?
oh, hello there.
i like your glasses.
what are you reading?