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The Way We Look At Things At First
the way you look at the woman
the way she walks and bears herself along a narrow alley,
the way she bends when she picks up
a coin, the way she blinks an eye,
or look at you when you stare at her
white face, black long hair flowing like silk in air,
her lips pouting at you
you think she is seducing you
her hands on her hips and her legs landing on the ground
like a wooden boat at the pier,
the way you look at first on the first impression is always on the
flesh
not on the shape of her bones
or the strength of her arteries and veins,
not always what is inside her guts,
or the brains in her
that you will not see unless
you go towards her, ask her name
take time together
and ask her what she thinks about
loneliness and pain
by then you will know if she is really your woman
and it is only you and time
to tell the world that the days are still worth living
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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