Just looking

I caught him looking

at me.  He looked away
once our eyes met.  That’s what
we do when we’re caught looking
at someone.  I look away, too. 
And we look at something else –
anything else.  It ends
there, right?  We just look away. 
We just pretend we caught
nothing, and were never caught. 
Does he dare look again?   What if
I catch him again?  I quickly
brush my hand over my face. 
Do I have something embarrassing
hanging from my eyes, my nose?  Run
my tongue over my teeth, check
for stray spinach.  I look again,
but no.  He’s looking away
now; walking away, too. 
I will never know his name.