At Starbucks on Broadway
7 o’clock this morning

You—smolderingly hot, sipping your Green Tea, pretending to read your paper, while, oh so erotically, gently rubbing your bare foot up and down the ankle of the luckiest man who ever drooled between two lips.

Me—realizing my socks don’t match.

You—leaning forward to whisper something to the drooler.

Me—Trying to remain ‘Valley Cool,’ while dribbling molten hot chocolate down the front of the same sorta-white shirt I wore yesterday.

You—shooting looks of open, wanton, animal lust towards your oblivious and
undeserving table mate.

Me—trying (and failing) to stifle a highly-explosive, full contact, nasal clearing sneeze, the reverberation of which scares dogs 3 blocks away.

You—looking demurely over your right shoulder to find the source of the eruption, all the while more aggressively stroking hunky boy’s shin and ankle with your unclad right foot.


Me—remembering what it was like to be a high school sophomore -- inept, socially bungling and devoid of even the most nominal dribble of hope.

You—slowly….ohhhhhhhhhh so slowly raising your hands above your head and seductively stretching. Your arched back, amplifying and accentuating those miraculous attributes
.
Me—searching for napkins, towels… anything to staunch the flow of qusai-transparent, chunk-laden mucosal pudding from my left nostril.

You—leaving, arm-in-arm, with whatshisname, your head resting on his shoulder.

Me—acutely and unrelentingly aware that mine will be a life lived in a melancholic emotional vacuum.

You—looking back over your shoulder, blessing me with a small smile and a glance.

Me—clinging zealously to the aforementioned, life-affirming smile and glance.

Mother will wash and iron my wardrobe tonight, as I polish my shoes and floss my teeth.

This can work, my goddess.

Ours is a destiny preordained to redefine love, commitment and doing the wild thing
frequently, feverishly and frollickingly.

Same place tomorrow?

I’ll be wearing my new purple
polyester leisure suit.

Until then, my nameless destiny,
I count the seconds.

Squirt me an email. We’ll begin
choosing names for our children.