Musings

Friday afternoon.
It looks cloudy outside--

I am staring at the screen--eyes glazed over, glasses are off.

It's quiet--only the hum of my computer and an occasional passing student; the clicking of my fingers on the keyboard. The place clears out quickly come Friday.
I love the silence.

come closer to the screen.
closer.

I am here. Let me brush the eyelash from your cheek.

****

Smoke-filled bar. Loud and crowded. Posers and intellects in thick framed glasses. Plastic cups and bottled beer--You wonder what you're doing here.Your bright eyes flash but you look unhappy.

She is not here.

Your worn jacket, large pockets on the inside, hold the empties.
Her earring back is lodged deep in the lint fibers at the bottom.
Run it between your fingers like so many soft things.


Someone bumps into you and spills her beer, a cute brunette trying to act grown up, her white tennis shoes and second-hand argile sweater.

She's only 22.

You sigh and turn again toward the band--girls are twirling and spinning to the hard drum beat. The band sucks but your head bobs in time to the song being butchered. Your mind is elsewhere. Escaping to the bathroom for a change of scenery you push through the crowd that engulfs your frame--the girls rub up against you. This scene is so college town. Raising your head to avoid interaction with the tight-packed mob you see her there--on the balcony, her arms resting on the rail...
and she smiles.

She is smiling at you.