4:10 p.m. - 11/25/01
there.must-be.life.-somewhere-amid.all.this.farm.equipment..-
Yesterday, near a soda machine outside the local discount grocery, I randomly decided I'd offer a female cashier the opportunity to love me.
She was perched on a cement half-wall about seven feet in front of me. She wore a blue apron and a weathered expression, and routinely tore into what looked to be chocolate but was later determined chicken. Watching her, I felt instinctiually that she'd never be able to recite the dietary exchangegs I have memorized, though she'd probably been offered them by some evil relative with a not-too-kind tone. Something about knowing that while I'd become acquainted with the glitz and glamour of a deadly illness, she'd been sweeping spills off the old tile in the cereal aisle awakened me, and I saw myself going over near her, leaning against the wall, head-cocked, my mouth twisted into a cute smile.
She smiled back, we voiced vague introductions, and she offered me a piece of chicken.
"No, thanks," I said, shaking my head softly. "I don't eat meat."
"Oh." Her eyes went back to the ground; she continued to chew. Our eyes locked on the piece of meat she held in her fingertips. She picked off a piece and looked at me again. "Why not?" she asked.
"Oh...lots of reasons," I murmured, trying to sound casual, despite the fact I knew my shyness was shaming her. I threw out a joke. "Don't worry," I said. "I don't think you're going to hell or anything - for enjoying a chicken wing."
She smiled; her lips pushed her cheeks up into a pair of laughing eyes. "It's a leg," she corrected me, and I smiled and bowed my head.
We were even again.
I realized it was beautiful, this simple give-and-take I had with her. I realized the way she was wrapped in the raw fall cold, the white polo collar, and the blue apron made her beautiful. I realized I was a fish out water in her presence, that she might enjoy my confidence.
Eventually, I realized, also, that I was still three inches from the Coke machine, she was still perched on the wall, and our entire exchange had never left my head.
I sighed and bit my tongue. When my parents finished shopping and we drove out of the parking lot, I saw her sitting with a middle-aged coworker who's cigarette smoke hung like fog over the hair of my fantasy.
I need to suck it up and meet people.
chord
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