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I am looking straight ahead, not side to side, in case you would be there, standing and gorgeous. I know if I saw your eyes I might carve them out and kiss them. I’d make a jade case for them with velvet indents so they may rest quietly when not in use. I’d be sure to have taken their lids, so when the case is opened I have that moment of pause and anticipation, waiting for them to open, like the biggest present under the Christmas tree. Your eyes are my brothers chasing me. Your eyes are Star Wars, Episode One: The Phantom Menace after waiting in line for three hours in costume. Your eyes are murdering robots with thought police escorts. I am their casualty. I am their casualty because I stand before them pleading to be victimized, hands deep in my pockets.

It’s futile…I cannot look straight ahead. You know this. Even now, I am looking to the side. It’s so fucking hopeless.