pondering the
motivation
of the girl who keeps
looking my way
on the N train or….a
poem fragment
about my own vanity
and
if they give you
a second look
now
you don’t feel
exactly good
or attractive
bestowed of
some magic
but wonder
like a fool
just how much longer
those second looks
will keep coming
in this life of yours
before you become
a ghost to them
forgotten about
altogether
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