The Syntax of a Look
They speak the unspoken,translating the syntax of a look -shy embarrassmentand a coy smile.We who have grown old,comfortable in our skinshaving studied long in this class,have forgotten the pressure of its first test - how thick the air becomeswhen you are still learning the difference between yes and no.She offers her laugh to the invisible city all around her,an unashamed note of trustthat he reads as permission.A green light to carry on,to let him pull her to him - not out of surrender,but as the first test of her own borders,discovering that she is the onewho keeps the control.He answers with a growing boldness,the hands of a boylearning the skills of a man,breaking the code of her proximity.Discovering that the world doesn't end at the touchmore; begins there.They are practicing the moves,finding the boundariesin a quiet rehearsalstaged in the open,where the only thing that mattersis the heat left behind,the understanding discoveredand the unwritten comfort created between them.