SP

When I was in high school I had a crush on the most poetic, handsome man in the school. He swaggered. He humbly rambled the hallways gazing soulfully from his saturnine features. He was a tall thing moving like a scottish deerhound (or Mr. Snuffleupagus). It was rumored he had spent a year bumming around the world on tramp steamers (which was why he looked so knowing). I learned that he spoke spanish and got someone to tell me how to say "come here" (venga). One day, after watching him in the cafeteria for days and seeing that he mostly ate alone, I ambled by where he sat and spoke my one word looking him full in the face. Then I hid myself in embarrassment.

Some days or weeks later I saw him at a party. He entered on the arm of the school freak (good-looking though she was). As he lay across the sofa he spoke to me. "You don't want what you think you want." I didn't understand.

Years later I met him at a Mormon gathering. After returning from a mission to Germany he had married a German woman. So I think I was on the right track but my timing was all wrong. And perhaps my approach. I've never been what you call subtle and I call invisible. Except for my humor which is so dry that some have called it not there.

I have only a thought and shadow but it's a great thought and a beautiful shadow.