He's here.
In Chuck Taylor's
and a button down blue shirt,
the collar slightly raised.
His knees are bent
ready to support the box in his hands,
or perhaps my weight before it hits the linoleum.
Soft 80s rock music
sweeps me to a world where
rules don't make sense.
His eyes find mine,
I turn away.
Yes turn away,
this world has rules, barriers
that mustn't be crossed.
His forearm brushes my elbow,
he hurries to answer those
that call from overhead.
I rest my hand on the shelf,
my eyes tracing each tooth in his smile.
This may be the only chance I get,
it's my moment.
From the shelf I pull a velvet heart.
Step to the back of his line.
His line is long,
everyone wants to hear his voice.
I wait.
His line disappears,
he's smiling at me.
I step to his counter,
my eyes on my hands.
He's speaking.
I'm nodding.
I'm leaving the counter,
a single heart in my plastic bag.
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