By Teak Watters
See, I can play it cool like a pro.
This is just an ordinary day, right?
I’ll comment on the weather, make a show
Of badmouthing the ref’s harsh call last night
In the game. I’ll act serene; none will know
How, when you appear, thought departs and flight
(though lacking wings) seems likely. I will sow
peace in spite of thrumming heartbeat at your sight.
Your smile does that –you, who lights up the room
Like a bright caféglows on a dark sidewalk.
Your easy chat unnerves me; I presume
This hidden maelstrom is mine only, locked
Beneath benign talk of hockey and rain;
This stoic calm belies my silent strain.