You could call her Mexico City the way her photogenic smile lit up the road by the monotonous visitor center strip. She had a diary in her hand and a big smile on her face, turning it off and on like a kitchen appliance, so happily in pursuit of a common sense of joy. I debated asking her what she was smiling about as she was fairly attractive, back against the wall in sitting position - Latina beauty with short hair and a young face. Diary of Anne’s Angst in her finger’s cradle. I wonder what she would’ve told me she was reading if I had asked.
“I’m sorry, no speak eh English.”
“Hi. Oh, umm, I’m reading a romantic novel that takes place in 1800’s Costa Rica and you just caught me as I was reading a sex scene.”
“Then that would explain the smiling,” I would follow up. “What’s your name?” she’d ask, looking me up and down in approval.
“My name is anonymous. I’m just a soul that’s drifting in these deserts who was wondering why you had the Book of Divine Physics propped open on your hips. But now that I’ve seen what you’re reading, I’ll decide to flirt. I’ll leave self doubt back in the automobile, trapped in the side view mirror as I walk towards you in hopes of leaving an impression. In hopes of leaving with a phone number.
[Dialogue that never occurred may be favorable when tampered with] “Yes, maybe I should’ve approached and said hello. Greetings aren’t an invasion of clientele so I might as well try and well…are you doing anything this weekend?”
She’ll reply “I’ll be here, reading this book, stroking it’s spine. Smiling at the contents within, your eyes shining in my presence like Bombay jewels in an underground den. I’m jasmine. I’m a short, petite dynamite stick but most would call me a bombshell. I’m an underwhelming land mine with underwater capabilities and under your covers would be the ideal place for me to get settled in.” Status of communication: Nonexistent. The black Chevy Impala pulls away, and the girl with the book in her hand continues smiling at what she is reading.
In : Poetry