body language

you lean forward and away.  i try to convince myself that it's not me.  who wants to think they are the one to make another pull away?  i'm giving you lots of room, why don't you just lean back?  you lean forward intently as if having some deep conversation with the road in front of you, reflections of the double yellow lines and the white passing lane steady streams a message.  are you arguing?  are you trying to understand why it is you are here traversing this road again?  you are perfectly still like a model and i'm attempting to draw you.  is your back sore?  must you sit that way because of developing kidney stones?  why do you watch the road so?  are you afraid of going off course?  are you hoping to?  are you simply drawn to the light like we all are, even if the light is artificial?  you seem troubled.  you remove your hands from under your chin to cradle your cheeks.  what is the road telling you my beautifully still muse?  you gentle creature, you deep brooding thing.  perhaps you are not here at all, space cowboy, perhaps you are beyond the road, outside of this particular journey.  you're in a star somewhere else.  you are posed as a melancholy thinker.  i've nailed it, yes?  but i've got you all wrong haven't i?  all wrong, like an artist who just can't seem to draw hands.  except this is more debilitating.  hands you can hide behind the figure's back, or under a desk or in a hug.  but a mind?  where can you hide a mind?