In A Fishbowl Poem by Benjamin Feliciano

She turns her head away when I look towards,
I do the same to her.
I try to catch her reflection in the window
But the lights are dim
And she is translucent.
Her beauty is furtive, as are my affections.
We play a silent game:
Who can steal a glance
Without the other seeing.
Her skirt is pale,
As is her olive skin.
So lovely on the outside,
Too bad I'll never know her quiet love again.
We part at Tyrone Street,
Which is where her journey ends.
Too few people understand the joy,
Of single-serving friends.