Unanswered Questions

Looking into his bright grey eyes again

as he lies quietly against dampened sheets

afterward, his left hand resting lightly

across his sternum, his smooth square chin

turned toward me at an easy angle, slender

neck arching toward collarbone, I wonder,

without certainty whether I desire the knowledge,

what thoughts circulate behind those eyes.

Does he evaluate his experiences on a scale

from disappointment to ecstasy, with this

one ranking somewhere around half-satisfied,

or take comfort in present company, recall

with nostalgia or regret incidents from his

relatively brief past, or more likely, whether

he’ll stay for breakfast, what time his work

shift starts, whether he has a clean shirt,

where he put his car keys.

 

Copyright 2014

T. Allen Culpepper

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