Stay a Memory

Young, they are
Young boy in paint stained pants, with beaten lunch box
Steel-toed, scuffed boots pale in the summer sun
With brownish white tank top, against brownish white skin,
On the bus coming home after twelve hours, he says
Why don't you ever call me, he says,
Where do you work, he says
Have you been keeping busy?
Elusive, with an aloof glint in her brown eyes,
Swinging shining brown hair over brown shoulders,
She evades his questions,
Young, straight out of highschool
Feel free to call me, he says
She non-commitally promises to
And both of them know, that she won't
Ever
Pick up the phone and dial his number,
And when she sees him at the bus stop, 2 months down the road,
She will turn to her friend, and giggle
Avoiding his eyes.