I went down to see her at Redondo Beach.
she ran a health food inn
and I drove past it once or twice
and then found a bar and had two vodka 7's.
for a Wednesday afternoon at 3:45 p.m. it was
unbelievable: there were 40 people in that bar
and every seat was taken.
neither the conversation or the male bartender or
the drinks seemed to warrant the overcrowding.
I stood next to the telephone and drank my
drinks.
then I drove down to the health food inn.
she was there-I'd met her briefly in a bar
for phone # and location-and I wasn't at all
sure what she'd look like-
but she was there
behind her bar
serving carrot juice and apple juice and
sundry juices
and strange sandwiches with shredded
green and yellow concoctions
within.
she looked good-long reddish-yellow hair,
she talked to all of them
mostly guys in brown walking shorts
with black short mustaches and
smooth faces of vacancy...
slim, dumb, desperate bodies and souls
they sat about willing to outwait anybody.

I went out to put more coins in the parking meter
and I came within an instant of driving off.
then I went back in and I waited too.

after she closed the inn
I went home with her
following her Volks station wagon
in my Volks bug.

the next morning after she went to work
I didn't read her mail or fondle her dirty
laundry, although I did crap and bathe and
I dressed and looked at the bed
and decided not to make it.
after all, maybe she would want to think of it-
that way.

I left, closing the door behind me,
coat over shoulder, the landlord
in the place up front scanning me..
thinking, a new one, huh?

she promises to make me healthy.
and, of course, she laughs when she says
it.
the best thing I like is the color of her
hair.
it can't make up its mind whether to be red
or blonde. have you met
one of those?

women's hair, I can't seem to get away
from it. I'll be back
to look at it. it beats
flying to Phoenix.

© Frank Silvanski