Eyes Front - Dec 9 2024

 

Eyes Front

Dec 9 2024

We sat face-to-face

across the table

like an old couple on date night.

Where we might have played footsie

down out of sight,

two tentative adolescents

suppressing desire.

Where I might have reached across for her hand

despite my sweaty palms

and badly bitten nails.

Where I might have looked dreamily into her eyes,

then broken the silence

with something funny and smart,

triumphantly flushing

when I heard her laugh.

You’d think side-by-side

would make more sense.

Shoulders almost touching,

and the heat of her legs

warming yours.

Her right arm

brushing your left,

before recoiling

as if in shock.

And no eye contact

without turning your head

so you feel freer to talk.

Like that time you sat in the passenger seat

eyes front

and opened up to your dad

in a way you’d never done before;

two taciturn men

who’ve exchanged words here and there,

some affirmative grunts

and noncommittal uh-huhs,

but never really shared.

As if feelings were unmanly.

As if better talk to your mother

could replace a hug.

The deep conversation

that looking back

you’ve never really had

since that day long ago.

But at least the table in-between

kept us safe,

and I could always look away

glance down

or fix on an ear;

look anywhere

but into her eyes.

Although you remember the time you and your friends

all crammed

into the red leather banquet

that curved against the wall

and she ended up beside you.

When the two of you shared a menu,

and you could let the conversation

take care of itself,

flowing over you

as everyone talked at once.

How nice that was, eyes front;

how innocent

yet intimate.

Back when you didn’t even know

if hers were brown or blue

green or grey.

And realize now, still don’t.

How brazen it would seem if, instead of naturally taking the seat across the table, you slid in beside your date. Which is more intimate, as well as more threatening: shoulder to shoulder, or face to face? Actual touch, or eye contact?

And how context changes everything: just the two of you, or a casual free-for-all?

More important, though, this is a poem about notions of intimacy and manliness; about awkward adolescence, and how — even all grown up — the past is always with us.