The boy I walk by every other day
October 23, 2002 @ 11:24 a.m.
There's this boy I always see on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, on my way to my 9:00 class. He's someone that all of my friends would be afraid of, or at least make fun of, I know that much for sure. But I think that he's beautiful.
I'm not good at guessing heights, but he's probably 5'10''ish. A full brown beard. Young, though, but a beard. It hangs down like two separate hairy fangs. He has gel-spiked dark brown hair that points to the sky in defiance. I know he has piercings but I haven't stared so I can't tell you where. Perhaps in his eyebrow.
And he's got these amazing eyes but I can't tell you what color they are. Probably brown, but I'm guessing. They are unfriendly, but there's something about them that keeps me looking at him, Monday after Wednesday after Friday.
He wears punk clothes, long baggy jeans, bulky coats, multicolored socks. And I am moved by him, because I feel a passion coming out from him. I pass other boys and sneer, because they smell like boys, you know, all stinky from sweat and excretion and other icky boy smells.
He doesn't smell like that. He smells like musty cigarettes, and musky cologne that I know he must apply more than once. And he's beautiful.
I dare any of you to find him and say that you wouldn't laugh.
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