And then 18 and the eyes meet my future bride’s for the first time. Lock for a moment, that is all. What beauty. 'Que bonita!' 'Who is that?' But an internal question and we don’t speak then; cowardice is far too easy.
And now 21 and it's St. Patrick’s Day and there is a party in my apartment. Everyone green and half-friends. She is there, across the room.
And we play a board game after the beers and she and I are a team. Her doing, though I will not know that for years. I have seen her around, there and across the room and there, but never this comfortable - our knees are close and touching. What to do? Surely you should say something clever and lasting; or at least move your knee. - but my phone rings and it is my then girlfriend and she has moved to another state which grants new lives and apparently hers dislikes her old which includes me and we are over and it ruins my night because...
...the game has ended and it will be years until I have another opportunity like that with her and even then I make it impossible for myself…at least that is how I remember it.
No comments:
Post a Comment