Estate

Estate
 by Jordan Brooks
Dec. 06, 2016.

A girl made her way into my diaries,
 a smart and pretty girl.
 I cannot tell which is her greater gift.
 Sometimes I wonder if it is indeed

her intelligence.
 Still, her beauty reigns,
 and she's nice in her disposition,
 played hard-to-get, and relented,

it was quite the relief.
 She plays a game when she speaks to me,
 a show of her intelligence,
 so she's fun,

even though the game--
 well, it can dismiss a conversation,
 makes it frivolous.
 Maybe that's how she feels about life,

it isn't so serious,
 Maybe that's the feeling I get from her.
 It isn't so serious.
 I guess she's a contender to take the place

that another girl entertained,
 and then tossed away;
 she makes a persuasive argument,
 that's what I'm thinking now,

when I'm with her,
 she doesn't seem so far away,
 looks on me
 with kind eyes,

and kind thoughts,
 her understanding's advanced,
 soon, I'll find myself
 wanting to be around her

at recess,
 or Market Night.
 I'll scribble it down in a notebook.
 Maybe I'll see her there,

I'll send away the smile as we start to talk.
 I'll see the intelligence, the prettiness,
 the cart of candied apples,
 the evening with the bands playing

the kettle-corn,
 we can walk through the streets,
 looking to buy
 dinner from a similar place,

then dessert,
 as we approach a band,
 on east State Street,
 the one across from shop that sells coffee

where we can watch the night end.