Mystery Man
We passed each other on that crumbled pavement between woolsey and alcatraz where the shadows of the trees and leaves hung on either side and above us. In that darkness I walked by you, and you by me. I turned as you passed into the sunshine and you turned as I passed, continuing through the shadows, and it was the beginning of the end of my innocence.
Though we never spoke, I'd see you around. Maybe I would be sitting at the bus stop in front of my pink(it was supposed to be 'raisin') monstrosity of a house and you'd walk behind my bench. i'd see you coming and get nervous, look straight ahead and then watch you pass, waiting for a glance back just so I could quickly turn away and blush brightly.
Sometimes I'd see you at ameoba music. I'd be embarrassed of what I was holding in my hands, thinking you were much more sophisticated, hanging out in the jazz section.
I'd see you at safeway on college avenue. Sometimes in the produce section where I'd browse the heads of lettuce and bunches of green onions. Looking at you, staying at the other end of the section. The brown bags of potatoes and the luscious oranges neatly piled in a pyramid. Anything not to make eye contact. Sometimes I tasted a grape (green only), being sure to wipe off whatever pesticide residue was left on my shirt. Sometimes I'd buy the grapes, eat a pound then feel sick from all the sweet juices and acid and swear never to eat grapes again. My dog wouldn't eat a grape unless it was unpeeled. I got in the habit of unpeeling grapes not just for him, but for myself. Red or green, small or large.
Though we never spoke, I'd see you around. Maybe I would be sitting at the bus stop in front of my pink(it was supposed to be 'raisin') monstrosity of a house and you'd walk behind my bench. i'd see you coming and get nervous, look straight ahead and then watch you pass, waiting for a glance back just so I could quickly turn away and blush brightly.
Sometimes I'd see you at ameoba music. I'd be embarrassed of what I was holding in my hands, thinking you were much more sophisticated, hanging out in the jazz section.
I'd see you at safeway on college avenue. Sometimes in the produce section where I'd browse the heads of lettuce and bunches of green onions. Looking at you, staying at the other end of the section. The brown bags of potatoes and the luscious oranges neatly piled in a pyramid. Anything not to make eye contact. Sometimes I tasted a grape (green only), being sure to wipe off whatever pesticide residue was left on my shirt. Sometimes I'd buy the grapes, eat a pound then feel sick from all the sweet juices and acid and swear never to eat grapes again. My dog wouldn't eat a grape unless it was unpeeled. I got in the habit of unpeeling grapes not just for him, but for myself. Red or green, small or large.