Checkout Counter Girl
I.
Does she paint,
Or write poems like me,
What wisps of imagination,
And creativity buzz in her head?
I wonder as I spy her
At the checkout counter
Every other day or so
When I look and dream.
II.
She has dreads in her hair
And a hemp necklace
She wears bracelets
And her eyebrow is pierced.
Blue eyes draw me in
Like a magnet to her
But I walk past her
And we’ll never speak.
III.
If I ran into you
And we talked music
If I asked to see a movie
At the theater down the road…
If we spoke
Would there be
Fiery sparks
Like the best kind
Of magic in the world?
I can only imagine
The picture and poem
Of us unique beings together
Colorful and expressive.
IV.
And like all fantasies
Like all the stories end
And in the air are released
To float and follow
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