Invisible Man

   No one else sees you, but you're there. The way I look at this one or that one. The way I smile or the thing I say, you're the reason. Your perfect face, look, touch or movement into my head -- like a wave -- like a December wind -- filling in the holes -- my look, my touch or movement. Everything I do sometimes is because of you. And they don't see you. But I do. In the Thrifty's buying something from the cashier. I stare for a long time. Your face. Your look. You turn and you're someone else and I try to pick up the conversation. And I know you're here.



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