In the Spar with a two litre Coke in my hand, looking Sunday-Observatory and she's
walking towards me. High brow and blonde hair and my god, so pretty. She sees
me, recognises me and smiles and stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, frozen as I realise,
stupid, half-smile, non-committal, you don't look like you mean it half-smile, dorky
looking, keep walking, stupid Coca-Cola bottle walking excitement.
Here? In my Spar? Around my Bergies? Below my bar, in my view. Like a school boy
watching a packet blown and rolling across an empty school sports field.
Really, what a dumb smile. And I've given so many, to so many girls, who I knew
better and meant more.
But all I did was walk past her in the Spar and smiled, stupidly, with a two litre
Coca-Cola bottle looking Sunday-Observatory. If she'd bumped into me at any other
time perhaps she'd see me with newspaper and learned, or music and sexy,
or notepad, ooh, writer! But all she got was stupid two litre Coca-Cola. And she hasn't
been at work lately. And I don't know how to find her. And I think I might just die!
|
