Disclaimer: I do not own the man I am attempting 
to portray.

<fortuita@hotmail.com> for feedback

Anchor and Barrier By Fortuita

Still, still my eye will gaze long fixed on thee, 
Till I forget that I am called a man,
And at thy side fast-rooted seem to be,
	From The Columbine, Jones Very

I skim smoothly down the hall, spinning out a 
story to my best friend. Hoping for some 
acknowledgment, the details became wilder and 
wilder. Your eyes, fixed firmly in the long distance, 
finally swing round towards me, crinkling with 
laughter.   I preen under the moment of attention, 
but too swiftly, you look away. Your focus is on the 
important things, not on the near-constant presence 
at your side.   I unfurl, swinging away for moments 
of contact with others. Always, your decisive person 
draws me back in. To once again look up hopefully, 
only to suppress my disappointment when I see no 
answering flame.   I curl over notes, over a keyboard. 
Twist nervous fingers through my hair. I do all the 
things I must to say I live. I am student, friend, 

lover, aide, joker, teacher,  and man. But 
occasionally, just occasionally, my eyes turn above 
stairs, or to you, Jim, at my side, or if alone, turn 
inwards.   And a shiver passes over me.

***