Annabelle
Christopher is the guy no one
notices,
standing behind his locker door
to hide his
tall and lanky body and his
pimply face.
Christopher is the guy who gets
the best grades
and turns beet red delivering
French orals
but can whiz through an algebra
equation
on the board at the speed of light
times twenty.
Christopher is the guy who’s been
in my class
since grade one, front row and centre
quiet, shy,
kicking soccer balls in the yard
at recess,
never showing off or seeking
attention.
Christopher is the guy who held
my hand so
tenderly and looked into my eyes
so deeply
that he turned into someone new
and handsome,
the chocolate brown of his eyes
suddenly
delicious.