THAT PARTIAL SMILE
The bookended moments are caught with a
glimmer - a camera light beckons for a flash
to go off. It's all that mark of your own sweet
face - that half-smile which motions and calls.
Something tells me to sit and stay.
-
Incredible notebooks, those Moleskine things
you carry - flip-open travel journals and the
small jot pads of writers. No one's sure how to
say, the pronunciation varies, I've heard, but every
bookstore buzzard learns to sell them quickly.
Now I can see why too - your wide eyes summon.
-
A report on something is due. A journal
entry, all about you.
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