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On the off chance

  • Published at 07:04 pm January 12th, 2019

A poem

On the off chance, that she would say yes
 he walked up to her.

The smell of cinnamon perfumed his consciousness
 the book before him, neglected for the past six
 hundred seconds
 His mind conceiving a future, a life
 after he saw her

Walking to her wasn't easy, talking to her wasn’t easy.
 invisible hands gripped him by the neck
 holding him prisoner and keeping him from uttering simple words to pretty girls.

Only a special kind of girl,
 the kind offering the glimpse of a domesticity,
 of a mutual kindness shared that would span decades,  
 that hope was what got him to talk to her.

On the off chance, that she would say yes,
 he went up to her, bespectacled girl,
 Ulysses dog-eared before her
 As he got closer, his knees started shaking
 weaker and weaker
 as though he was on the edge of a cliff
 gazing into infinity below

Hi he said
 Hi she said back
 A pregnant moment, when a man's fortunes
 hang in the balance,
 Say something funny, he told himself.
 Say something, he said again.

He choked
 blood rising to his cheeks
 fire engine red
 he left the café
 greeted by the bitter cold of November’s embrace

On the off chance, that she would say yes
 he had asked her out
 and humiliated himself.
 November air transformed
 tears into snowballs
 solidifying his shame.

He was such a loser
 when that spark of connection
 drew him across the room
 he always always fucked it up

Fuck up. Fucked up.

A cool hand on his shoulder.Gloved hand.Small hand.
 He turned around. The sides of his gaze shiny.
 You left this, she said.
 A smile.Crooked teeth.Imperfectly beautiful.
 The feel of laughter and the buzz of alcohol on a cold night

He wiped the sides of his face
 in a surreptitious attempt to appear cool.
 Bewildered he stared at her and this time
 he knew what to say.

On the off chance that she would say yes,
 he had asked her to marry him
 and she did.