Wouldn’t
it be nice if we met at a record store you frequent?
I’d
notice you lightly tapping your shoes as you run your fingers across those
vinyl records, not sure of what you really are looking for.
I’d
slyly stand next to you and talk about some record I randomly picked from
another album stand.
We’d
talk about Pink Floyd, Bon Iver, Joni Mitchell, and Blur. I’d be so caught up
in your words, your beautiful lips as you passionately talk about your music.
We’d
smile and talk, probably laugh over some silly story I’d dug up from memory just
to ease the awkwardness.
And
we’ll end up outside the store buying nothing but more time and a chance to
meet again.
Would
it be better if we met at the train station on your way home?
You’d
be looking out the south-bound side of the train when I’d run into you,
desperate for directions.
You’d
look at me with your tired eyes and help me out. I’d remember to ask everything
I needed to know but forget to ask your name, until you suddenly ask for mine.
We’d
be quiet, staring down our dirty shoes but secretly eager to talk more – hoping
that the last train would be late.
Wouldn’t it be interesting to meet you as a stranger than as a friend?
We’d
be like empty, chipped cups waiting to be filled;
If
fate would be kinder and time wouldn’t be so cruel
If I see
you again, it wouldn’t be how we were
If I
meet you again, I’ll love you first.
