He slinks to his place under the tree,

carrying his bag of art that swings

against his slender legs, and

he sits on a leaf-littered patch of grass

that’s surely brown beneath the

dull oranges and yellows of the leaves.

And as he sits, his shirt lifts up,

revealing just a taste of that delightful

flat stomach, which is only one thing

of beauty about this boy.

There’s a list.

A long list of beauty and perfection

and even grace as he taps his feet on

the ground and drums his fingers on

his lean thighs, listening to whatever

music is his preference.

I can’t help staring and

I can’t help feeling like I’m

stalking this boy that’s just a few

years younger than myself.

But his beauty enthralls me to

the point of hypnotization, to

the point that I can’t look away,

until he looks in my direction

then my eyes go north, east, south,

west, whatever direction he’s not in.

But seconds later I’m back to

taking in the shape of his torso and

the strong muscles of his forearms

that are revealed by rolled up sleeves.

Then, I’m back to his lean thighs

and the way they taper down to his

thin, but strong and firm calves.

He looks over in my direction

once again, this time I’m frozen

and can’t look away. He smiles

and my body starts to tremble

and I feel as if I could crumble

away at any moment.

He rises from his patch of grass,

leaving his bag of art behind him.

Now he’s next to me and I can’t seem

to open my mouth to say a simple “Hello”.

He’s silent as well, but then he

Kisses me

Kisses me

Kisses me

Now I’m back.

Staring into space.

I look to the left a bit and

he’s there, now lying on his

patch of grass,

listening and tapping and drumming.