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


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