jean shorts cover cheeks only just,
and near-knee high socks accompany.
does this sound familiar? her voice is
gravel, and I swoon silently and still.
her hair is all up in pony-tail posture
and her friend is tossing me stares.
mean ones, too. she knows my game
and wants me to run out of quarters.
I hardly have time for the change anyway.
sitting back, I sip beer, trade stare for stare,
imagine a future and then destroy it. say,
come and hop on this before life begins to tear.