I got her number…

“I got her number, how do you like them apples.”

What ever happened to that moment…to coasters in bars and napkins and borrowed pens?  To the last look before she smiled and wrote it down and touched my palm.  Before Google and Facebook and Instagram?  There was a time I had to ask…

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Train rides and busy sidewalks are the last frontiers of anonymity.  Standing room only at 8:00am with earbuds and leather bags hanging from wrists to free a hand for iphones and androids between stops. 

A young girl at Christmas wore Christmas tree earings with little colored ornaments and when she saw me looking she smiled.  “I like your earings”, I smiled.  And looked away…and after a long pause she tapped my shoulder and said, “You missed the best part…”, and I looked again, and she smiled, again, and lit the tiny lights on the little Christmas trees.  They blinked, we smiled and it was her stop.  I never saw her again.

Whatever happened to those moments?  Before text messages at dinner tables. Those moments across the candlelight were golden and precious and as fragile as the sliding doors on trains that left us forever apart unless we reached out…unless we lean into the kiss it will fade into the awkward moment of loss at the curb on a warm night beneath the layers of milky blue turned black somewhere far above those streetlights, once upon a time.

Meet me there…

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This entry was published on May 13, 2013 at 10:59 pm. It’s filed under Life, Love, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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