potato chip.

he has this brilliant mind,
it is electric,
supersonic,
a constant churning of gears and pulleys
when he speaks
it sounds like 
crisp potato chips
being propelled
in rapid fire.
he is bizarre and unpredictable,
but oh how is he
ever so compelling.
he carefully combs his hair,
taking meticulous care
not to interfere with his 
natural part.
his shoulders fill
his zipped up hooded sweatshirt,
his long fingers
smoothing out any wrinkle
that dare show itself.
as prickly and unapproachable 
he may first come across
[i fear i will trip over my words-
my feeble ability at 
being clever
in front of him, 
and with his shrewd, 
sharp eyes-
missing nothing, 
he will send a
missile of potato chips
in my direction]
he really is quite personable.
he takes the time to 
gather my coat, 
gathering me in as well, 
for a rigid, 
yet purposeful hug.
he is hospitable and friendly,
and though his sarcasm 
snaps 
across the air
like bubble gum 
clapping against 
the lips,
he leads us to the basement 
urges us 
to make ourselves
comfortable
busying himself with 
drink and snack orders.
and though i am not 
completely relaxed,
i want to be here.
i spy glimpses of softness,
and tones of pudding
when he interacts 
with her,
he is like a boy 
who likes a girl
and only wants to please her.
there certainly isn't 
any gooshy, squishy, jello-ee 
interactions,
but certainly there is 
refreshing fragrant air, 
a logical, 
unmistakable chemistry
between them,
it delights me to see.
i may not understand his 
quirky nature,
or be able to keep up 
with his labyrinth  
of a mind,
i understand the language 
of kindness
and he speaks
 just enough phrases
that i think i have learned to
at least 
appreciate
the flavor of  
salt and vinegar 
chips.