Distance
Poetry by John Jajeh
I've always hated dressing in formal wear, but damn do I look good.
I look up and hope she doesn’t notice a single emotion in my eyes. Wrath feels like an organ that I was
born with.
I'm not charismatic. I'm not misanthropic. I'm just a grayscale of sorts.
I can't focus anymore. A quick flashback of positive irony reminds me of the “Two Face” Seinfeld bit
that feels all too familiar now.
I have this weird feeling like I need to look back up, just in case.
I raise my head and am surprised by my finding. She is looking back.
I look back down. It's embarrassing when someone catches you staring. Do girls feel the same way?
She didn't look away.
I pretend to focus elsewhere but hold a hunch that she's still studying me.
I take a risk and look up again, and she’s still looking back.
I look up and hope she doesn’t notice a single emotion in my eyes. Wrath feels like an organ that I was
born with.
I'm not charismatic. I'm not misanthropic. I'm just a grayscale of sorts.
I can't focus anymore. A quick flashback of positive irony reminds me of the “Two Face” Seinfeld bit
that feels all too familiar now.
I have this weird feeling like I need to look back up, just in case.
I raise my head and am surprised by my finding. She is looking back.
I look back down. It's embarrassing when someone catches you staring. Do girls feel the same way?
She didn't look away.
I pretend to focus elsewhere but hold a hunch that she's still studying me.
I take a risk and look up again, and she’s still looking back.
About the Writer