(image via)
At The Stoplight
you turn your head
and see a girl
glancing down at
Her mouth
twitches into an
involuntary grin,
the mechanism of
her smile so natural
that she doesn’t
even realize that
she’s done it—
like breathing,
like blinking.
And now you,
a stranger, sitting
one car over,
has seen her
private sizzle of joy,
a flash
and then gone,
as lovely as a firefly
on a summer night.
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