Eye Contact

by Mary Brunini McArdle

It was the rest of him
I noticed first, because
He seemed familiar.
He was slight of build,
Almost too thin–
Certainly not extraordinary.
But then he faced me,
And I looked into his eyes.
I couldn’t name their color–
For I was lost,
Caught in a whirlpool
Of some other place.

What was it I saw there?
I couldn’t pin it down,
Or find the right expression–
But there was something.
Perhaps I wanted him,
Coveted him for months.
One day he wore his uniform;
He was an aviator–
They are not large men–
And what was in his eyes
Was probably the sky.