I used to look forward to meeting you
every tuesday evening
when the air was cool
and my hair dripped water down my back.
When I saw you coming my way
I'd pick up my phone and smile
hoping you might look in my direction.
Sometimes you'd say hey
and I'd comment back,
but other times
you were silent.
I would watch as you
collected change from your sweatpants' pocket
and picked up a MilkyWay chocolate bar
from the vending machine.
How you would say
that you couldn't go a day without one.
And I believed you.
Because you were that peculiar kid
who once ate frosting for lunch
and has never had an egg
besides in a pancake or cookie.
When it was time for me to go
I'd quietly back my stuff and offer a
"see you later" in your direction.
I never looked back to see if you replied.
We stopped talking
long before I left,
I guess it just made it