Merlot and Working

My pleasure vent of blissful breeze serves a beautiful purpose to my sweaty forehead as I enter the revolving doors inside the bank downtown. The Reddit post I read the other day mentioned an author signing at the bookstore and coffee shop inside the same building. I am a massive fan of the bookstore's selection and a self-published author with a flower garden of glitters in my eyes for some merlot at the coffee shop to ease my mind.

I push two front knuckles in the middle of the knee-high wooden doors scratching the skin off. The coffee shop barista drops both shoulders with an exhale and bends over to the bottom right cabinet as soon as we make eye contact. She promised to keep my favorite wine box hidden after all the tips I left to pay her car note. I think she knows, but I need one more request after ordering my wine and reading my magazine--napkins for these bloody knuckles.

I went over this last time and almost broke the steering wheel. I cannot express my fantasies. We can speak when I need to ring up at the cash register when I am ready to check out.

I can hear my dame's voice as I hear my mothers' saying thank you, though I am beyond approaching her level. Not that I don't have a game plan, or I am not at par to court; that a bloody love note would leave her running, I think so.

The corner of my eyes tries not to catch a glimpse of the woman sitting in the chair inside the erotica section since wine tends to be sneaky.

My eyes close, blocking the world out while I breathe in the essence of thinking about my cashier. All particle matter between my vision and her beauty disappears whenever she works in front of the bookstore. The barista is the only other employee I talk to, and I think she knows how I feel about the front cashier. My usual chair is empty, and I come at enough time before my fine purser clocks in to make sure no one is sitting in my spot so I can have a good view.

After all, I think the cutesy clerk could be a student or maybe a business owner. Our small talk does no justice when it comes to personal details. However, I know if she works at a bookstore, she must love to read.

I nab two mints, sip my merlot slowly, and plan to ask her to proofread a poem for a contest I am entering. Much easier than replacing a beaten-in steering wheel from passionate frustration. One more glance to see if her register is counted before I reread the following:

WHEN I SEE THEM WALKING HAPPY HOLDING HANDS, IT MUST BE NICE, BUT FORGET ABOUT THAT. I HOPE FOR THIS DAY TO COME AS I HOPE TO BE IN HEAVEN… THE WOMAN I WISH TO LIVE WITH FOREVER IS WAITING FOR ME, AND WHEN I MEET HER, SHE WILL SAY, "WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG. WHY WERE YOU WITH THOSE GIRLS, AND NOT LOOKING FOR ME?" I HAD READ SOMETHING SAYING TO INVISION THE QUALITIES IN MY WOMAN (do other guys do these things), SO NO WOMAN READING THIS CAN SAY SHE WOULDN'T WANT TO GET TO KNOW ME. I AM OPEN AND POURING OUT MY HEART TO MY FUTURE, AND I KNOW YOU ARE JUST AS SO…

I IMAGINE MY MATE TO BE SUPPORTIVE OF ME. TO BE ABLE TO HAVE MY BACK EVEN WHEN I'M WRONG AND BE ABLE TO STAND BEHIND ME, TELLING ME IN OUR HOME MY MISTAKE. AND UNDERSTANDING THAT ALL I DO IS OUT OF GOODNESS AND SPRITUAL EVOLUTION FOR ALL.

I IMAGINE MY MATE TO BE STRONG AND BOLD. TO BE ABLE TO WALK WITH A BOLD STANCE, AND REPRESENT US EVEN WHEN WE ARE APART. NOT TO BE AFRAID OF THE DARK, BUGS, OR A PET SNAKE.

I IMAGINE MY MATE TO BE AFFECTIONATE AND NURTURING. TO BE ABLE TO HOLD ME AND COMFORT ME EVEN IF SHE IS UPSET OR TIRED, ABLE TO FORGIVE AND LOVE ME ENDLESSLY NO MATTER WHAT.

I IMAGINE MY MATE TO BE AN INDIVIDUAL BEING. ABLE TO MAKE HER MIND UP AND BE INDIFFERENT. TO BE ABLE TO HAVE AN OPEN SPIRITUAL MIND AND THINK FREELY, OUT OF THE BOX.

I IMAGINE HER TO BE POSITIVE AND REASSURING. TO BE ABLE TO CONTROL MY MIND AND EMOTIONS, MAKING ME DOCILE, HAPPY, AND GIVE ME THE PASSION FOR MOVING A MOUNTAIN FOR HER OUT OF MY DESIRE TO LOVE HER.

LASTLY, I IMAGINE MY MATE TO HOLD ME AND SAY ONLY THINGS I WILL UNDERSTAND. TO BE ABLE TO LOOK AT ME AND COMMUNICATE WITHOUT WORDS. TO BE ABLE TO CONTROL MY MIND AND ABOVE ALL MARRY ME, BECAUSE SHE CANNOT BE WITHOUT ME.

IF THAT IS TOO MUCH, LET ME KNOW, BECAUSE I'M FOREVER, PASSIONATE AND HONEST. I HAVE A STRONG VIBE WITH MY FUTURE LOVE AND AM TIRED OF DISAPPOINTING HER BY BEING AWAY. IF ANYONE WOULD LIKE TO SHARE WITH ME, WRITE BACK WITH YOUR FEELINGS OF YOUR FUTURE LOVE MATE BECAUSE TRUE LOVE IS RIGHT AROUND YOUR SHOULDERS WITHIN MINUTES OF YOU FOR YEARS, TURN AROUND AND LOOK, BEING OPEN TO RECEIVE THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD AND THE GREATEST HUMAN FORCE…..LOVE!!!!!

I had to reread it after I nearly wiped blood across the page, but something tells me that she would not even mind. Asking her opinion on a poem letter of romantic suggestive intent with hopes of possible dating is dull without the heart. And what does the heart need to pump? Or maybe she is into post-apocalypse or horror. At the register, our conversations do not last long as she has been working here for months.

Another hour goes by, and I realize my future Misses does not clock in when I see her replacement. As I watch the other readers enjoying their drinks and book, I head to go home with much disappointment from us not chatting and forget the letter on the chair. I left on the way home and overlooked I left my card with the barista as well. I anxiously head back to retrieve both.

As I entered the bloody swinging doors, the letter was gone, as I was escorted to the backroom by the cashier to retrieve it. To my surprise, the cashier was waiting, holding the letter with a smile. When the barista returned my card after I departed, she noticed the note in the chair. The barista knew who it was for and called the cashier to read the poem. My lovely cashier and I are dating now. One of our favorite places to visit is our coffee shop.