21 Until We Board, Lord. Theodore J. Lopata,English There’s a boy my age at the airport. There’s a boy my age, and I think I’m in love with his eyes. I can barely see them over there, but I swear they’re the kind I’ve always favored. clueless to beauty; inclined to pretty things. there are rings holding hostage his fingers they click against the camera that rests in his bag I am sure there’s a camera in his suitcase. on which his fingers perch atop, framed like a mantis. half his face covered with the lens of it; the corner of his mouth creeping out behind the body, extending like locusts toward the innocent. I swear he has a camera in his suitcase. God, are you looking at me? Could you do me a favor and turn both your eyes from the scene? I’ll go to church if you do this for me. He’d have photographs all along his wall alongside portraits of his mother, a woman he adores. And his two little sisters who are scared of the plane and who giggle like cherubs when they see us embrace. God, is he looking at me? Is there a failing on that poster? Yes, the fonts are different sizes. it makes the image look askew like you’re drunk and forgetting that he will see you differently in the morning if you tell him what you want to do to his lips
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