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
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John Jajeh is an Atlanta native and currently resides in New York City. His previous works have appeared in Runestone Journal, Peregrine Journal, Free Library of the Internet Void, ZaumXS, Dark River Review, Erato, Unstamatic Magazine, and North Avenue Review.
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