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Poems
123
Mr. Gică’s Love Poem
When I was young, I wanted to write you
a love poem.
When I was young, I would see you in that long hallway,
watching television, in a crowd of unknown people.
Your legs were crossed.
I was young, and I wanted to write you
a love poem.
I was sad I wasn’t Eminescu
or even Sadoveanu,
or someonewhocould recite, inanunforgettableperformance,
“Hillside Eve.”
It was autumn.
You wore your hair up.
I had never seen you with your hair up.
I walked down the stairs
with my eyes glued to your crossed legs,
and I didn’t even have the nerve to say I loved you.
I knew you knew I was looking at you.
I walked down the stairs and into vocational school.
I wanted to learn, for your sake, the most complicated
hairstyles.
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