I can't help but love that smile of yours
the one I only saw for the first time on Monday
– a six-day lifetime ago –
the smile punctuated by blue braces,
the one that bubbles into a chortle
or a full-fledged, open-mouthed laugh.

I can't help but want to just sit and
listen to you talk all day
– you'd do it, too, you chatterbox –
just sit and listen to your stories about
paintball, firecrackers, and NRH2O
the stories that make me laugh
and show off an already-patented
caused-by-you smile.

I can't help but feel guilty as I hug you good-bye,
– an innocent, “all arms, no body” hug –
but nonetheless, I feel like I'm breaking rules,
tearing down walls, trust built between
me and another boy with your same
six-letter first name
– that just makes this all the more tangled and
rough –

and when I smile and say, “Bye, Andrew!”
as you wander away,
I can't help but wonder which Andrew I'm
moving in the opposite direction of.