You wouldn’t mistake him for a model,
not because he lacks beauty, but because
his beauty takes a less ostentatious form,
slouching against the corridor wall,
toying with his cell phone while he awaits
a class. His heathered-blue tank top
reveals shoulders strong but not overworked
at the gym, chest hair but not too much,
a realistic tan, one shade lighter on chest
and shoulders than on the forearms bent
forward. Dark jeans, slim but not too skinny,
desert boots taupe at its darkest edge,
strap of cross-body bag striped diagonally
across his torso. His face regular-featured,
just faintly stubbled, dark hair in a Caeser cut;
he seems quiet but perceptive. In a different
context, with him older and me younger,
I’d like to meet him, find out more.
Copyright 2013
T. Allen Culpepper
