I Will Stare At You.

I will stare at you.

Yes. I will. It’s a problem that I have. I stare. But it’s not that I’m judging you. It’s more that I want to throw you down and have my way with you. (Don’t worry. I very likely won’t, unless you have expressly given me your permission to do so.)

If I stare at you, it is not because I think you’re foul. It’s that I find you beautiful. And strange. I’m fascinated by you, you and the inflections in your voice and the life on your hands.

Yes, I will stare at you. I’ll wish that I could be the wind in your hair. I’ll drink you in as you’re coming and, yes, I will turn and watch you go.

If you catch me, I’ll try to quickly look away. But know that once you’ve caught me things will only get worse. I wish I could say it’s not so, but I can’t. It’s like a syndrome, and being found out only aggravates the symptoms. Chances are you’ll get uncomfortable.

And I know that I seem creepy, but I just can’t rein it in.

No, I can’t help it. To change my ways would be to go against nature. I stare because I love you, you see.  We haven’t met, I know, but I’m certain that my love is true. I love your boots, your voice, your flair. Your lips, your song, your style. And the smile you give the cashier. Or the way you scream at the waitress.

It’s human beings, you see. They get me every time. And I just can’t get enough.

One Response to “I Will Stare At You.”
  1. Ann Smithers says:

    Amy, it seems you and NYC are meant to be! I love your writing – can’t wait for more! xo Ann

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