every monday i get our small, silent moment of exchanged smiles. you
call me by my birth month and i know nothing of yours, but i know you
remember me by a different name every other week.
someone told me you had a bad fall before and you had your leg in a cast.
that moment of insobriety of mine with your lemon citrus cake that i thought of you
and your sweet smiles and your once broken bones.
i'd drunk-ring you if i knew the digits.
i pull my tricks and you tugged, too.
so, why in heaven's sake do you look at me as if you've known me before?
would you let me know if i'm the only one or if your ruse wasn't meant for only me?
