Thank-you, guy in the Buick, for whistling at me
When I accidentally made eye contact,
Because I had to twist around and look at the traffic signal behind me
Because the one across the street was broken,
But that doesn’t matter.
What matters is that I made the mistake of
Looking your way while you swung into a right turn
But that moment, that whistle, was pure destiny.
It was all planned.
I lied to my mom this morning
When I said I was walking the five blocks
To go take care of my dad’s dog
And a quarter can of dog food.
It wasn’t true.
brazenly I marched from my house
Sporting 1980s nylon shorts
And a tragically bleach spotted tank top
Yes, I schemed to myself
As I twisted my hair into a sensible bun
And only you know the truth.
I walked out the door
In all my flip-flop sporting
A yard-duty hoofing it across Fresno.
Yes, I was dressed to impress you
Crusty man in the rust bucket Buick
My ensemble was entirely intentional
purely For your benefit
And Only you knew it.
Even I didn’t realize it
Until you whistled
photo credit: WikimediaCommons