the crank of the bar stool
an import sliding down the counter
a cold one touching your hand
then two eyes glance your way
thoughts run through you like
white water rafting on the Colorado river
her name? age? who is she?
you answer back with awkward stares
hoping to receive some eye contact
the second locked in
is the second you retreat
what if she thinks I'm weird?
drink in your hand
you try to shake her off
but continuous glances only drag you in
now details are noted
and imperfections are hunted for
....but no luck.
the bottle is empty, and you reach for your phone
tab is paid and stool is pushed back in
as you attempt to pass by her
only to see an empty seat
don't worry, you say
i'll see her again.
another day, another fellow stranger
No comments:
Post a Comment