sitting in a corner
with sunlight dancing
across her freckled face
head bobbing to
miss independent
as she clicked her
chocolate flavored tongue
on repeat.

‘Might as well have been
sitting all by herself.’

the waiter muttered
sneaking stolen glances
between the loose edges
of his paper boy back
love struck
and completely thundered

cartload of bricks
riding on his shoulder blades
as he stumbled
(much to the diners delight)
and attempted to busy himself with
wrestling the cappuccino machine

watching out for honey colored hair
from the corners of his eyes
as she faced him
tapping at the
small
tall
whipped
creamed
picture above him

and like some starbucks knight
fully equipped in tin foiled armor
he held a biscotti stick in one hand
and struck an impression of a pose

'$3.49, please'
he tenor tremored
price attached onto his heartstrings
unraveling all over her fingertips
and the frosted colored counter

but she didn't spare him a glance
as she picked out shiny pennies
one by one
behind her mickey mouse ears
and he wondered if she preferred
jazz over smashing pumpkins or whether
she sang herself to sleep.

overflowing the whip cream
to her afternoon concoction
to extreme proportions
as Rosie passed by taking in the scene
shaking, tutting, and saying
‘it must be the heat.’

making him too pink around the ears
to notice the smile playing
on the corner of her
strawberry tart lips
fingers trailing on the display
as she tried to catch the name
printed on his butterfly form
fluttering on repeat.

bumbling through apologies
as he wiped up the buttery catastrophe
hoping she would not recoil
at his summer boy jam hands
but she merely studied
the painting on the wall.

Van Gogh’s sunflowers dripping in oil color

thoughts racing as he wondered
if she took delight to the sunflower hats
in the shop down the street
or liked to wear summer dresses
while walking in
summer heat

sunlight trickled (into his heart)
while he watched her earrings dangle
with the sudden urge
of taking those guitar pick accessories
and playing her a serenade
on top of the ferris wheel
or the empire state

(but even pimple free he knew she wouldn’t be impressed
with his air guitar expertise.)

someone coughed
near the background
bringing back the sense of sound
from behind this polaroid in the making
as the song died down
from her moment eclipsed ears

she nodded in thanks
fingering the cream
dripping down the logo sheen
eyes twinkling
as she flitted out the door way
and he marveled if mysteries
could melt in the sun

leaving him with a fortune cookie slip of a wish
that he could catch a murmur of her voice
against the speakers strapped onto the ceiling

‘-one rainy day.’ he said softly
sunspots still dancing in his eyes
as he closed up the shop,
bought a second hand guitar from the street
and sang himself to love struck sleep.