I sat waiting on a drink to be brought to me
when you entered the room,
hair billowing in gold and bronze streaks
across narrow shoulders hidden under a sweater,
your scarf releasing as you unwrap it from your thin, pale neck...
You lay your elbows casually on the counter as you order,
then spin 180 degrees after paying from a small brown purse
no bigger than just to fit your phone, money and some drugs for later.
I admire the way your lips part, smiling at a child asking his mom for a cookie,
and i wonder what you may have looked like as a child...
I find your fingers, thin and pale, clutched around the ends of your scarf... playing with the fringe...
a waitress interrupts my view and i give a hurried and annoyed "thank you"
as she sets down a large mug beside me.
You receive your own drink--to go.
Please do not turn around too quickly..
Linger at the counter to add sugar or caramel...
Please come and sit by me, and we could talk about that book you just finished
or a concert you saw last week
or a cloud that oddly looked like Mister Rodgers.
But you do leave, wrapping your scarf around your neck
hiding your little white neck
and your long bone-like fingers brush your hair away from the knot,
then exit, scooting out of the way for the next customer.
I watch you walk past the window i sit behind,
kicking myself for being glued down by your beauty--like sunlight.