David Hines (hradzka) wrote,
David Hines
hradzka

APED: "i'd like to know a little something more"

I know that you get coffee in the morning.
I've seen you in the coffeehouse we share.
And I know you wear no make-up, and I know your ears are pierced,
and I know the way you like to wear your hair.
I know milk and two sugars, and cash is how you pay,
and I know the sound your stride makes on the floor.
I know the way your fingers curve
and I know the way you smile,
but I'd like to know a little something more.

I know that you like reading Charles Bukowski.
I've seen you with his books beneath your arm.
I know you wear two rings, and wear a bracelet on your wrist;
I know the quiet jingle of its charms.
I know you start work early, though I don't know what you do.
I don't know what kind of home you leave it for.
I know that you like cinnamon
and bear paws and eclairs
but I'd like to know a little something more.

I never learned just how to speak to strangers, do you see,
and so I don't know how to speak to you.
I don't know much about you, but I like the things I see,
but now I just don't know what's next to do.

So I wrote this verse, and left it at the counter.
When they give it to you, please don't be alarmed.
I know that I don't know you, but I also know I smile
each morning when I hear your jingled charms.
I know I'd like to meet you, and I know that this is strange,
so I'm sure you'll take your coffee out the door --
but I'm milk and I'm two sugars, too,
and I'm sitting to your left,
and I'd like to know a little something more.
Tags: a poem every day
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