I fake my life like I've lived, too much
I take whatever you're given
not enough
Overground (watch this space)
I'm open
to fall from grace.
6 Underground-
sneaker pimps
She smiles at me as I walk to the counter. A store bought tan makes her blues eyes brighter than usual.
"Hello, again. What can I get you today?"
She means snack food, or a soda or gas. I decide that today is the day that I roll the dice and ask for more. Because after 2 months I think I want to know. I want to know if her smiles are equally delivered to all customers, or if there is something else implied. I can never tell about these things. I have misread signals in both directions, thinking I was seeing interest where there is none and ignoring serious flirtations that co-workers described as obvious as a car accident.
I want to know and I have practiced a series of lines/questions/comments-do I go for polite? cocky? obscure? I don't her well enough to know what fits-but I want to know.
I want to know if the charm around her neck has a photo in it (who is it?) I want to know if she listens to music with the windows down BLARING or up, with eyes half closed-tapping on the dashboard. I want to know if she dances on the edge of sidewalks -amateur gymnast-or if she jams on the hoods of a cars with hips that pivot and fingers that snap. I want to know her in all of those ways- quiet and loud-public and private.
Silent I stand there searching her eyes for a clue. She squints a little, and bites her bottom lip, finally:
"Are you thinkin' of asking me something? "
I want to know if anyone knows everything about you. That's what I want.
Pause, while she leans towards me, chin between elbows on the counter, and this:
"Not yet...."