Overheard at Whole Fuckingpaycheck

“hey!” she said excitedly
to the boy behind me in line
while simultaneously ignoring
my happy, “how’s it going!”
greeting.
it left my lips
mouthed to the air
as i slid into
her lane watching her eyes
slip away from mine.

silly me
i thought she was
communicating with me
her next customer
in a line of six

“are you going up
to the festival next weekend?”
she gushed
(woodstock, i’m thinkin’)
“oh gosh, i can’t remember the name of it now”
she purred
(monterey pop flies into my head)
“but, its just like burning man”
(the rainbow festival, i’m dreamin’)
(no, wait, burning man is in desert wasteland)
“except its up in the mountains near yosemite, and
its going to be soooooooooo cool!”
(now, i am remembering peyote buttons
in a desert sweat lodge in new mexico)

an ever-so-tiny note
of desperation mars and
slips into her
enthusiasm
“do you think you can make it?”
(she asks him)

he hadn’t heard of it.
he wasn’t going.
he had to work.

pity he didn’t hear what i heard:

“please be interested
in me
maybe you will want
to come with me
to this thing up there
(or anywhere)
i think you’re adorable
and i need to be loved
so dearly”.

that’s what i heard.
in between
current yammerings
screamed into my inner ear
arguing with the voices
about desiring
to be 20-something again
imploring me
to remember
to be here now

(what i’ve learned)
what i wanted
to say to her was:

“what i’ve learned
over all these years
is that men
are as
deaf as a post
most of
the time”.

rarely can they
read between
the lines
see it in your eyes
hear it in your voice
catch the undertones
of it.

deaf.
as a post
most of the time.

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About lindalou5150

as exercise or exorcism, i write...for the eyes of others, for my eyes and heart only, for the love and the rage, i write...to release the gamut of emotion...to tell the truth and say what's often thought but not written...
This entry was posted in poetry/poesy. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Overheard at Whole Fuckingpaycheck

  1. I have learned recently
    After all these years
    I still take what I hear between the lines
    As hints of hidden desires…
    Or are they mine?

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