By Paul Bearer

Your face holds in it for me
an attraction so strong
it devoirs me and leaves me void.

I see you on the street corner
and I try not to stare
but your face is so beautiful.

It’s like a miracle,
you’ve the grace of an angel,
and my only desire is one look.

With a glance I want my eyes
to take a snapshot
that indelibly imprints your face
upon my memory;
I want to burn your image permanently
onto my retinas—

One more look is all I want,
just one more, and
I promise it’ll be my last;
just a brief casual glance
so that I can die, satisfied.

Oh, I’d like try to tell others about you,
but they’d only laugh, as if I’d seen
a UFO, Elvis, or the virgin Mary.

The light at the street corner changes
and you walk across—
I dare not follow you,
I change my direction
and I head the other way.

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