7: or how I spent my Earth Day

I walked through the door and casually slipped my jacket off, making eye contact with the one person I’ve yet to know. I make small talk with my friends, “how’s it going, where’s life taken you” all the while keeping a safe but comfortable distance. I’ll play this one safe, like a wining hand I’ve yet to be dealt. I talk loud, and I’m rude spewing things from my mouth you know to be untrue. I exaggerate, conjuring up a good line, throw all my spoiled bait all the while keeping taut my line.

Play this one smooth, she’s got a spark in her eye, play this one through, her smile doesn’t lie. She laughs at your swagger, all your whistles and bells, she smiles at your awkward way you carry yourself. But you’re smooth today, like the silk scarf she hides, the one tucked away in her drawer, the one she’s too embarrasses to share.

She has a soft smile, one that knows pain, but her laugh reveals that she knows the game. This one’s different, you’ll play it safe, make her smile enough so she’ll remember your name. Write this to her, she likes to read, write this down in hopes that she’ll see. She seems like to type whom would study the rules of play, before she makes her move, and take the game.