A boy & a girl; teenage dreams, teenage hearts & teenage kicks (so hard to beat). A crowded train, a crowded city & it's been a long, long day for everyone. The boy nods his weary head into his chest, his hands front & centre as propriety demands. The girl slides her head onto his shoulder; a movie dream, a teenage dream (so hard to beat) as much as she dares. She fidgets in her seat, fidgets with her hands, fidgets with propriety. Her hands long to touch his, to hold them & yet with awkward bodies & awkward hearts they remain & so instead she clings ever so tightly to the cuff of his jacket; that sleeve his soul, his love, his word, his look & in all those things her own.
A smile of memory & empathy; those first loves; as defining as they are destroying; enormous in everything. Those teenage dreams are so hard to beat. Do we ever?
The bittersweet jealousy I feel for what they're going through pushes aside the cynicism or truth that life reveals in those formative years they've yet to run & I wish them well.
Their awkward hearts & awkward feelings in a country where such feelings cling only to the cuffs, as propriety demands.
I leave them to the train & as I alight I wonder; do we ever outgrow our awkward hearts?
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