Is it a look?
A fast sweep of skin, glistens by my peripherals
My head turns to follow the movement of my eyes;
A billboard, read it; Top Three: Shifty Legs
A quick glimpse of a cover that has already lost a leaf
...did Dickens write you?
A released grasp of commentary is descending into the usual chatter of consecutive thoughts. Trifling, trailing, timid thoughts. Thoughts that travel; trumpeting turrets, taunting, trembling, teased lips bit; not wanting to utter suggestion:
Say hello. Say hello. Say hello.
As my eyes return to the gaze of contemplation before and my head with it. Chin rested on a hand that has missed the lingerings of another hand.
And here I sit
Hushed by the world by the outer skin, for the innards are loud and scratching. And with the most nonessential feel to return to the distraction, as of schedule; I dart back a glance to find a glance mirrored back.
...Is It a look?