I saw a man flirting with a girl behind a desk
Leaned over to suggest the casual amid a careful pose
I wanted to hate him for it, lips curled silently
For I envied him that pose, that desk, that woman
(For she seemed lovely and intelligent, in as much
As observation suffices for such qualities)
But I could not
For I have too often been leaned over that desk
A thousand, ten thousand of its sister desks
Striking the same too-obvious pose
Fumbling for the same words
Listening without listening
Smiling without smiling
A mirror’s brutal truth
The same hollow act, the same hallowed act
I saw myself in him, and my ideal in her
I left them be without a word, a sound, a gesture
Not with hate, but with hope
I hope he has better fortune than I
I hope this desk will be his last leaning
Lean no more, my brother; lean no more
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