someone once described me as dangerous I asked him why he blinked and said "I don't know." so we contemplated each other warily across the dock now he's condensed to tiny pieces of noise strained through fibers and plastic cradles wired through satellites I no longer pose a threat I let him touch me once I leaned on his shoulder and slung an arm around his waist it made him stammer and pull his neck back to look at me hesitantly he put his hand on my hip things never went farther than that perhaps he thought our exchange was cat & mouse and I didn't want much more he had wide eyes laughed quick and smoked ridiculous clove cigarettes that came in tin cases he would let his glance dart over his surroundings he was a smart boy who hung out with the kids that were going nowhere fast he liked me because I was different but he didn't do anything about it because he was afraid of me a sleeping poet in the summer of my seventeenth year