On the backside of a ballroom,
I noticed you,
I noticed the way you looked different than everyone else,
not handsome,
though you were,
not better than them,
though you were that as well,
and I saw you sitting alone,
with a glass of something,
and I could see,
you felt sorry for everyone else,
but all I could think of was that I did not want you to think that of me,
and I did not want you to put your hand on the small of my back because you felt bad for me,
or to ease yourself of yesterday's plague,
and I did not want you to say something silly about how these notions,
these grand notions were for old time's sake,
no one even knew what that meant,
I knew that even you,
even you did not
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