We Exchanged Our Poems

We exchanged our poems,

Which had been penned, scratched and blotted

On single-lined notebook paper.

I gave mine, she handed hers over,

I smiled, she did too.

Then we turned our backs to each other,

Sunken in the glory of the words

Of another.

Nodding, in appraisal and beaming in pleasure,

Perusing over some words and etching others in memory. 

Marveling at the theme, visualizing the setting,

Approving of the many characters, nodding at a monologue,

Laughing if the effect was comical, brooding if airs were wistful,

Then turning to face each other, running this play of emotions

Through a single expression plain to decipher.

Then a nod, which exclaimed, "How well we do understand each other!"

Slightly ruffled, turning away with grace,

Only to gnash our incisors in chagrin.

I'm thinking, "Oh, how good is this poem, how well does she write!!

It'll earn her worldwide acclaim."

And then, "She must have found my piece a mite in the scrapyard.

Does she sigh or does she laugh at my mediocrity?

Is she my well-wisher or my foe?

Has she come to realize that the road is neat, and

That all coasts will be clear and all processions will trumpet out her name?"

My instinct tells me that my friend of old times is devouring

My handiwork, as voracious as they make them.

And picking out the chaff bit by bit,

But it's taking her so long, to sift out the umpteen follies,

That the task has become almost so insurmountable 

That she can't turn around,

And face me so that I can read the contempt,

On her picturesque face. 

And what is she thinking?

Do you opine I asked?

My face convulsed with shame and envy,

I was afraid I'd smolder up in rage

At myself and at the prodigy who had decided

To outshine me. 

After stealing a couple of glances,

I finally turned.

And so did she.

Oh, woe be me, I suppose I was so drenched by my shame,

And so entrenched in my lack of literary ability,

That I could never tell how long she had been already

Facing me like a mighty challenger!
Ready to wad out her criticism.

But hey! Boy, she was smiling sweetly,

I tried to smile back, but realized,

That my facial muscles were already strained so much 

By smiling the same quality of smile she had turned on. 

So I hung on.

I stood there affixed,

Trying to read my buddy's face but failing miserably for once.

So I decided to hand over her poem, 

Just as she handed over mine.

Oh, it was in the wrong hands now,

Because I wanted to rip it into bits.

My friend, if she knew, would laugh silently,

So I did some snooping, and saw her gazing penetratingly 

At me.

I'd pay all I could for her thoughts then, but hey, what use?

So we said pleasant goodbyes and that ended the matter.

But friends as we are, a few moments are inscrutable,

So do me a favor, ask my friend directly,

What was flashing through her mind,

Unless you know, 

Do you?