Tuesday, September 8, 2009

March of the Ego

I’d already walked past her three times today. Well six, but I’m pretty sure she looked at me around the third time I think.
You know, the look.
Time to approach. Lurching forward I knocked her glass over the table and collected her friend with my elbow on the way through.
I smiled politely, I could tell she was surprised by my approach.
I noticed my fly was undone.
I greeted her with my name, and asked for hers. I could tell by the way she shrank back in her chair that she was shy. I knew I could use this to my advantage.
I noticed her friend having an intense discussion with a waiter. He hurriedly reached for a phone. Probably to reprimand the staff for rudely not making a bee line to place an extra setting and chair for me.
I became aware of the girl talking again, I noticed she was in tears, she asked me to go away.
I knew I’d done fine.

Kind Regards,



  1. I have been bent over laughing. How on earth do you think you qualified to be a poet! It takes all sorts and you definitely take the cake, no the whiskey!

  2. I'm new to your blog and amused by your writing here. It's what you'd describe as coming from an 'unreliable narrator'. There's poignancy in it as well. Thanks