Author: Sage Francis
We walk as two, but we’ll leave one set of tortured footprints/
Now here she comes…walking through the door…giving that look. Since/
I roll with shook wimps…I’m shaking in my boots/
Kids are behind me eating steak and soup, talking ’bout beatbreaks and loops/
And I wanna’ turn around…join in on the convo, but I ain’t got jack to say/
And it’s sad to say…I’m just a poetry fag actin’ gay in my black beret/
I just came to this wack-ass cafГѓВ© /
To drink an ice coffee and kill a bit of time before the matinee/
Why oh why did I need Cappaccino Cooler?/
Now I’m trying to avoid eye contact. Lets see if I can fool her/
I put a look of concentration on my face as I scribble on a napkin/
Squinting my eyes, acting like I’m really serious about this mess of non-sensical pen action/
A web of chicken scratch and ink blots/
Is she still there? Standing awkwardly glaring? I think not/
Look up….think again. Shit…now when/
Is she going stop making me waste ink from my pen as I sit and pretend/
I knew I should have come with a friend. I shrink and I send/
Myself into meditation…and I’m on the brink of Zen/
Is she buying it? I pick up my empty glass…tilt it..and drink the flem/
She’s STILL scoping! in fact, this chick’s a 10/
At least in my book…which isn’t all that well read, but it’s been said /
Once she gets her grip on men they simply bend/…backwards.
She attracts nerds, jocks, substitutes and student teachers /
Who all profess their love for all of her protruding features/
There’s no fooling this creature, she’s WAY fine/
So dope, I’d have to smuggle her across state lines or else pay fines/
What’s holding me back is what I heard through the grape vine/
She’s a non-conformist freak who only comes out in the daytime/
«Don’t look at me.» I can feel the burn of her stare on my sensitive skin/
I’m anti-social and I don’t know how conversational sentences begin/
Plus, I’m allergic to the medicine of sexual healing/
This impotence is sickening. She’s sensual…appealing/
Now I’m covering up my crotch region by crossing my legs/
Lost in thoughts of whores in my bed. It’s awful…so I’m forcing my head/
into my forearms. I should…invite her for a cup of Joe/
It would do more harm than good…I just know/
I mean…she’s no Natalie Portman, and I’ve been kind of holding out for her/
Naturally…Now my thoughts spin…and she’s on the «out» for sure/
Gradually…contort my mindframe so no doubts occur/
I activate testicular bravery and I shout to her/
Our eyes lock.
And time stops…/
She floats over to my spot…
and I say «Hi, I’m not/
trying to hit on you like the way all these other guys jock/
I just wanna’ let you know…I’m the type of person who lies a lot/
Sometimes I fart and I pick my nose like a maniac/
I’d be glad to front the cost of a date with you as long as you pay me back/
If we ever reach the friendship level where things like that are shared/
And I know my facial hair is weird…but I’ve been waiting for someone like you to shave my beard/
I’m usually more discreet about my insecurities, but today…I just ain’t prepared.»/
In all honesty…this dame just stared/
And I was like «Uhhh…yeah…/
So ummm…heh…»
Nervous twitches were initiated and out nostrils flared/
Our eyes started wandering and I was rocking in my chair/
I just continued on scared that I lost her…in my upfront approach/
She looked at my napkin and noticed what I wrote/
…which was nothing
I said «The funny thing is…I could have used you as a muse/
Wrote you sonnets in iambic pentameter and then produced/
Mass amounts of unsent love letters and out-of-tune love ballads/
Some valid…but most just to get you thinking of marriage/
It’s untrue. I don’t want to create a first impression I can’t live up to/
I…just…wanna…
She said «Nuff said. I’m a theme park. Ride me until the sun sets.»/
So I jumped up on her shoulders as we exited the entrance.
