the girl who read the white peony leaves (in solitude)
wiped the counter (to be noticed)
she wanted to be seen by a boy
who would only come into her tea shop once
and she would be sick that day.
she knew this by looking into
the bottom of her cup.
still. it helps to seduce the pyrex
in a way that says
i'm in control of my destiny
***
and the boy sat in his prefabricated predestined dorm room
surfing open source pornographic video sites
looking for a girl he had only seen in his dreams.
he was twelve. so moved by
the woman he loved before knowing
if she was conceived in this century or the next or never
that he drew a picture of her
it was a crude but technically accurate depiction
down to her flat matted blonde hairs.
unmoved by the offerings of the world wide web
he gingerly unfolded his muse again and relieved himself.
***
in the late afternoon
when the sun
hit the counter
in a way
that lit up her smile
and electrified
little baby blonde hairs
crowning her face
escaping the dread locks
she would confuse
the leaky steam wand
for a squeaky door
this is how
she wanted him
to find her
***
she wiped dust off the teacups
with a white fresh rag
and thought about her shop.
it was tuesday at ten.
most students were in class
most god fearing houusewives were at the
fundamentals for fundamentalists knitting circles.
the ones that did not fear god had the luxury
of idling on the sofa, uncaffienated,
the men were at work.
***
have you seen my dream girl?
she goes to the college i was too scared to leave home for.
she works at the tea shop there, and reads
leaves at the bar when shes drank enough.
she is too good at it, so she never likes to read sober.
she sees my face in the dredges of white peony
and smiles sadly, knowing
that inaction is the folly of man.
***
have you seen my dream girl?
she lives in a city that holds
my stillborn successes to her skyscraper chest.
she works in a place i can't afford but know i should
i'm sure she works there
she smells like honey and rain and dry earth
rubbing between her finger
i'm sure her shoulder blades point
to the highest stars in the heaven
and fly past penthouses.
have you seen my dream girl?
she saves my life in a mini mall
full of tall grass
by regurgitating orange julius
into my mouth. right before i wake up.
i wake up and shes gone
i don't have a number to receive desperate texts
or solid material for a missed connection
please tell me if you've seen her
she's light on her feet but sure in her step
there can't be many people like that left.
she puts her arches to the ground
as a descendant of salome, lifting her step.
so light on her feet
is the girl of my dreams, that she leaps over
begrudging push carts and undeserving oak leaves
on her way to work. she performs her tasks
with beauty and duty and grace
and never even misses me
