Old Nonsense Pt. 3

2003-11-21
It's only safe to notice her from afar. She would ultimately destroy me in one form or another if I took the matter closer. She is not a fragile girl. You will immediately guess that by the razor gait she uses to cut through streets and sidewalks, but mostly men. Or, so I would assume. Or rather, what I imagine would happen to me if I chose to stand directly in front of her desperately trying to save face and gather her attention. Her steps are like lightning that would ultimately send such electricity up through my legs that surely my head would eventually catch fire.

Yet, everyday I sit in this chair that slides under the table that holds my drink and newspaper. I can only pretend to read for so long before I reach into my pocket for another cigarette. I can only hope that the toxins within can coat my lungs enough to protect them from her scent which sends a gasp with every breath. Her perfume is abundant with such intoxicants that send a delicate man like myself into dreams of impossible hopes and wonders. Delusions of moments that make me believe she is wearing them for me intentionally.

Her voice commands the waiters serving her from the table in front of me. The table reserved for her especially. I would bet that her voice never echoes. Not even at the highest peaks. Her words shoot straight at a pointed target with such velocity that sound itself has trouble keeping pace. Never really stern, just wisely followed. She is in command of all that she does and perfection is never sacrificed. It's the pictures she hangs on the walls. It's the mirrors in her bedroom. I can only see me being caste away in front of them, as well as the disappointment reflected from her face. It is best to hold on to the fantasies I have for her because physically I could never make them real. In situations like this it is easier to never have.

"Safer"