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Stop, drop and roll was never better advice when one's heart is aflame. Its chromium valves, its machined aorta smoldering after just a single glimpse of you pushing your cart up and down the aisles, one wobbly wheel in front, your handbag in the place for kids to ride. Grass-stained blue jeans just seared my lowered eyes …
You: Tall guy with dark hair and a beard, in line at Savers.
Me: Tall girl with long dark hair, waiting for her friend to check out.
You kept looking at me, but we were both too shy to say hello. Wish we had!
Oh beautiful hippy girl of my patchouli nightmares. You fill my jaded hipster head with flowers and pot smoke and that million dollar crooked smile. I want to hold your hand or something equally as cute. I know you aren't available, but that's ok. Just let me enjoy our occasional spontaneous coffee dates and if the stars align one day, maybe we can be. My angry heart could use a little sunshine.
Today I saw you by the organic aisle. You: Very handsome man, dark hair, wearing a grey jacket, brown shoes. You caught my eye and my heart. I tried to make eye contact by the drinks section but you were focused on your shopping. I was wearing a gray jacket and black slacks buying ginger ale. You were driving black pickup and I was in Honda Civic. Hope you read this and maybe we go for coffee??
I was standing in line behind you at the checkout aisle in the early afternoon Monday. You: Tall, handsome. We made eye contact, smiled. Me: Speechless … wishing I had said something.
