Reasons not to.
Sometimes you see a little glimmer as it turns into a glare. This happened to me the other night at a moldy old place called O'malleys in Weston. We all started the night looking for real estate, deciding upon a nice cool [not warm] spot on the stairs, impeding the drunks from getting the sauce that they so needed. Just like we like it. Soon we decided to get some sauce. One black and tan for me, one whisky cola for terry, and one Woodchuck for Jems.
The night proceeded as any other night out with friends, a lot of drinking, talking, talking, talking. I found a some stools upstairs and proceeded to carve my initials and a little heart, as I was calling them up to join me. Surrounded by my friends I heard a little;
"hey"
"hey"
"hey"
I turn around and saw you, in a cute little hat, demure and looking very embarrassed,
"Um, hey, do you want to come sit at my table?"
"wha.. Okay, sure...!"
"......."
"let me get my cigarettes"
I spun to get my camels and in a matter of a few seconds a hundred thoughts overcast my already clouded mind.
[whats this about]
[is this a trap]
[why?]
[.......]
Soon I was introduced to your mother and grandmother, odd I thought. I learned about your former job, what you want to do with your life, Shared some cigarettes, Learned about purse anchors/hooks/whatever. Told me where you lived and what you where doing at the table next to the band, in the bar, in Missouri. Who you read, Who you listen to. Why you wanted to talk to me.. Which you slyly never responded to.
After becoming engrossed and wanting to learn more about you, Your mother and grandmother, started whispering to you in between the sips of their wine. You began to look embarrassed again. They got up after a particularly long sip and whisper, told you that it was time to leave.
you asked for a pen,
proceeded to write your number on my arm.
then put my number in your phone.
then the same for me.
Reasons not to call you are few, but one makes it to much, that being that. Such a great night of talking of dreams, of travel, of family... With someone you probably will never see again. Pushes me not to call you because somehow I think that the whole night, or at least the conversation shall become ruined if we actually made it real.
I am a person of what-ifs, rather than why-not. So I suppose that whatever reasons I come up with don't feel bad I didn't call, You would not like me outside of Saturday
Sometimes you see a little glimmer as it turns into a glare. This happened to me the other night at a moldy old place called O'malleys in Weston. We all started the night looking for real estate, deciding upon a nice cool [not warm] spot on the stairs, impeding the drunks from getting the sauce that they so needed. Just like we like it. Soon we decided to get some sauce. One black and tan for me, one whisky cola for terry, and one Woodchuck for Jems.
The night proceeded as any other night out with friends, a lot of drinking, talking, talking, talking. I found a some stools upstairs and proceeded to carve my initials and a little heart, as I was calling them up to join me. Surrounded by my friends I heard a little;
"hey"
"hey"
"hey"
I turn around and saw you, in a cute little hat, demure and looking very embarrassed,
"Um, hey, do you want to come sit at my table?"
"wha.. Okay, sure...!"
"......."
"let me get my cigarettes"
I spun to get my camels and in a matter of a few seconds a hundred thoughts overcast my already clouded mind.
[whats this about]
[is this a trap]
[why?]
[.......]
Soon I was introduced to your mother and grandmother, odd I thought. I learned about your former job, what you want to do with your life, Shared some cigarettes, Learned about purse anchors/hooks/whatever. Told me where you lived and what you where doing at the table next to the band, in the bar, in Missouri. Who you read, Who you listen to. Why you wanted to talk to me.. Which you slyly never responded to.
After becoming engrossed and wanting to learn more about you, Your mother and grandmother, started whispering to you in between the sips of their wine. You began to look embarrassed again. They got up after a particularly long sip and whisper, told you that it was time to leave.
you asked for a pen,
proceeded to write your number on my arm.
then put my number in your phone.
then the same for me.
Reasons not to call you are few, but one makes it to much, that being that. Such a great night of talking of dreams, of travel, of family... With someone you probably will never see again. Pushes me not to call you because somehow I think that the whole night, or at least the conversation shall become ruined if we actually made it real.
I am a person of what-ifs, rather than why-not. So I suppose that whatever reasons I come up with don't feel bad I didn't call, You would not like me outside of Saturday