Staring

I hide a smile and
pretend to play cool
as a pretty girl
with hair and lips like
Molly Ringwald in
her teenage heyday
shyly turns away,
my gaze having met
her passing stare.

Two girls at
a nearby table
laugh at a pigeon
strutting too close
to their legs,
and this time
I cannot help
but let a playful smirk
light up my face.

The unfamiliar faces
no longer make me nervous,
now as pieces in a game,
a chess of confidence.

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