I sit under a bench in the shade

Old San Juan is where I spend most of the day

Listening to parched leaves scrape against the cobblestone

Birds chirping their happiness as bread crumbs fall against their beaks

In the distance, a few benches away, I feel your presence

I feel your eyes on me

You watch me as I write these words

My curiosity peaks me as I now watch you write words to your own poetry

I wonder if you write of me

Wonder if I have become your muse

A smile spreads across your face

I like it, but don’t let you see the smile that spreads across mine

I continue to watch you in my peripheral

Your hand moves ferociously

I am inspired to be your inspiration

I get up to come speak to you

It’s then that I realize you are not alone

Your smile was never for me

Your pen didn’t move for me

I try my hardest not to let you see my embarrassment as you hand your notebook to she

She

For it is she from whence your inspiration breathes

Not me

I run back to the taxi

And drive away from Old San Juan

© Julia Blues 2008

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