Sometimes you look at someone
and you k n o w.
You know your story won’t end here,
in this crowded coffee shop,
in this clamorous classroom,
in this chaotic car park.
You know this won’t be the last time
your eyes lock,
nor will it be the last time
you wonder what exactly is going on in their brain
that leaves obvious signs of a sleepless night
or a sleepless month or year.
You know there’s more to you,
more to t h i s.
You just have to wait.
Sit patiently on the edge of your bus seat,
watch them get off at their stop,