Wondering when childish infatuations will give way
to something more serious
worrying that I might miss out on life's experiences
that I miss opportunities
and timing
Undecided, fickle, and still that "Geena"
still that silly girl who sees
too much and too little
Still living in that time capsule
with that shroud of a uniform
probably already reborn
after ashes in the incinerator
like a phoenix
on some other puberty teen's body
white with innocence
who will worry about menstral stains
and think pads are a curiousity.

Who thought Romeo and Juliet fools
and one of Shakespeare's worst plays
and the world's greatest romance
a fraud
of a weakling of a guy
and a fool of a monk.
Or that Boo Radley
who was misunderstood
so much like myself.
And then I read Othello,
my favorite of his few works I have read.

That is a play about love
About how dark it can get
and how piosoned it can become
I worry that I will want to live out my own fantasies
try to make plays real
Some things are safe on stage
for a specator
but on news you cry
for innocence and lives lost
and violence.

I still think of that Sunday
when I ran into you
and felt such affinity
probably childlike concoctions of my own imagination
Einstein thinks imgaination is better knowledge
but he was always a dreamer
if only Eve felt the same
time slowed
even stopped
as I stood there
sun shining blue skies
the clouds stationary
all I saw was you
wonder how the world looked from you eyes
relativity of time
is a concept of love
perhaps
einstein is shakespeare's counterpart

somewhere in time
Romeo saw Juliet
time stopped
Othello murdered Desdemona
the world ended.