Avoidance

The funny things people do when they’re trying

to look busy,

the sense of awkwardness in what they

choose to examine with a little too much intent.

No one is interested in the packaging label,

the hem of a shirt,

nothing with any more substance than the dust

flying through the air

until they have someone to avoid.

I could feel that when we saw each other for the

first time since then,

you trying to keep busy by making

conversation with the walls, or counting the

moments between your inhale and my exhale.

Anything to seem preoccupied.

To not let it slip out.

The “I miss you” or

“I hate you”

or whatever emotion you were choosing to

occupy at the time.

I remember saying something you found funny,

and noticing a small stifled smirk hiding around

the corners of your mouth.

The rest of the room belly laughed

but that’s all you gave me.

You couldn’t let me know that you were

listening.

That you were paying attention much more

than you let on.

I don’t know when things changed,

sometime between the winter and the spring,

but eventually,

you were able to look me in the eyes again.

And suddenly the dust no longer mattered,

the walls went quiet.

I would say a joke,

and you would laugh.