Ah, you look so cool.

"Ah," she cried, "you look so cool."

Their eyes met,

and they stared at each other,

alone in space.

With an effort

she glanced down at the table.

"You always look so cool,"

she repeated.

She had told him

that she loved him,

and Tom Buchanan saw.

.

.

.

I was thinking

about that way

that people look

at each other

when they're in love.

Sometimes modestly,

through a curtain of eyelashes,

like looking straight on

at him

might turn you

into gold.

Sometimes

one look says

I think

you're the most

interesting

person

in the world.

.

.

.

In high school,

I was immediately dazzled

when Daisy says

Ah, you look so cool.

You always look so cool.

She had told him

that she loved him,

and Tom Buchanan

had seen.

My classmates

didn't get it.

They thought

she had literally said

I love you, Jay.

That the narrative

had skipped ahead.

That Tom Buchanan

had actually seen.

You idiots,

I thought.

She didn't actually say it

because she just said it.

You don't tell someone

that they always look

so cool

for nothing.

.

.

.

And think of your horror

when you accidentally,

like Tom,

catch someone

looking at someone

like that.

You nearly murmur,

"I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to intrude."

.

.

.

But I was praying yesterday.

I was talking

out loud

and God was listening.

And when I was silent

for a moment,

clear into my head

came the words

It's good for someone

to look at someone

like that.

Frida Kahlo.