Yes, he has been looking at me for some time—
I noticed it but I said nothing.
And everything seems fine inside a bus fiilled with colored umbrellas.
He looks at me—he stares at me, I know—with gentle persistence,
and I would engage his eyes also but I can't—
so I wait for him to speak,
pretending to gaze perplexed at the rain on the windows.
And people are stepping out into the rain but
will never know us—
people are stepping out into the rain but
will never know us.
And meanwhile, there is seated further inside—
and I don't know for how long—a more beautiful woman.
And it is impossible not to look at her—
but he doesn't look, he does not.
A slight smile to me, only to me,
then he brushes by me and leaves.
And people are stepping out into the rain but
will never know us—
people are stepping out into the rain but
will never know us.
And people are stepping out into the rain but
will never know us—
people are stepping out into the rain but
will never know us.