As the room fills up with French
I become a quiet American.
Eyes as big as windows,
ears like torn and empty nets,
missing every word that comes near them.

My nose though
catches the smell from the stove.
In my ears they are crepes,
in my nose they are pancakes.
I watch one in the pan across the room,
it moves as it cooks
like a kitten barely born.

My eyes, discontent with the plain flat crepe, are drawn back to her.
I cannot help but stare.
In her hair is the changing of the seasons.
In her eyes is the setting of the sun,
and in her mouth, a world unexplored.

Her constant glance and pretty smile
are bait enough to snare the most celibate of suitors
A compass to North, I am drawn inexorably to this girl
this unknown, this challenge
and this feeling I get whenever I see her smile.

AcB 9.29.00