The Little Redhead Girl
By Richard Davis

He sees her sometimes turning corners,
sometimes, then his big feet flip flop
down the sidewalk, just one block
to finally meet the redhead girl.
Her silhouette is all he sees these days
on window panes of ice cream shops,
through big glass candy jars, on the dry side
of the aquarium where he goes to think,
behind some tree in fall... the foolish boy
who'll seek advice from a psychiatrist
in blue at the makeshift lemonade stand.

And if he does meet her -- It's really her
he'll say to himself, pausing as she passes,
the strange lad stuck on the sidewalk musing
the mystery of electricity,
her silhouette now her, and poor Blockhead
without a word to say in his open mouth.