Sunday, March 14, 2004

love at the post office
As I am putting the kickstand down on my bike in the little lobby of the 3rd st. post office, I see a guy with a big box behind me. I start to open the door for him, but he insists he has it. When I try to let him go ahead of me thru the 2nd door, he gestures for me to go first. Tall, bearded, handsome. I love him. I get in postition in line, and turn sideways, nonchalantly looking back towards him. His profile as beautiful as his , uh, frontview(?), I try not to stare. I notice another man come in, stand right behind him, and ask the guy "want me to wait with you?" Not quite as handsome, but still a good-looking man; he glances in my direction as his pal says "Naw, I'm fine by myself, catch up with you later." A slight frown as he leaves his box on the ground, and walks out. Meanwhile, my guy is so purposefully not looking in my direction, his love for me becomes obvious. It's my turn at the window, as I walk up to the window I try to make eyecontact but as he stares intently down at his package, I realize I should let him be. I finish up my business at the window - meanwhile he's advanced to the other window - I turn to get one more look at his fuzzy face, denim-covered lower half, purposefully expressionless expression that screams "I Want You" - and grab my bike to leave. It hits me then. The other guy must've been his boyfreind; perhaps they had just returned from a New Paltz wedding, and now, seeing me, he has regrets. Sees me, sees the other possibilities out there, and his insides are in turmoil. Wondering what it would be like with me, in bed, in our upstate house, sleeping late on Sundays, having coffee while reading the New York Times, making love again....

I love my post office.