Its routine now. Everytime I’m out I will loop around past the book shop.
I’ve been telling myself the reasons for this. Its near the shop with the news papers (so I can read Calvin and Hobbes), it’s simply on my route and in any case, if I feel the need to peruse the bookshop I can.
I don’t know if its one single thing about her, but I do know its a lot of things. Her hair is one of these things. Her raven, jet black hair, perfectly straight, just hanging down. She ties it back too but she should let it down more often. But that’s her choice, not mine. And to borrow/paraphrase a line from Bob Dylan “into her eyes where the moonlight swims”. And those eyes , behind Tina Fey esque glasses. It’s too much. It’s a cuteness factor of seven barrels filled with puppies AND kittens.
I want to say more, I really do. I want to perform acrobatic maneuvers with words to describe her. But there’s no point. Shes beautiful. Thats just it. Shes beautiful.
And she works with books. And you can tell she likes books. You just know. And her smile. And her voice, Dylan again “…like chimes”. Just beautiful man.
Shes entwined in my mind. Whenever I am reading Julio Cortazar (Hopscotch right now – greatest novel ever), as I read the sublime prose I’m thinking of her. She’s a real life La Maga and now I like her even more. And even when I’m playing Madden ( Now I have to make sure the weak side blitzer makes it in order to take away th – oh, hey you…nothing really, just thinking of you.)
And yet I don’t say anything to her. If I was a little more sure of myself, yeah, I probably would say something to her. Just Hi, Hello, would like to grab a cup of tea sometime? But not right now. Maybe though. Some day.
I like you cute book selling girl. I like you a lot. I just don’t know how to tell you.