you make
friends with a toll
booth operator.
you see her
nearly everyday
as you hand her
a dollar to break
down into quarters.
it's so obvious
that you like each
other. you can
feel that unspoken
vibe. there's
chemistry, for sure.
you get goose bumps
when her hand
touches yours as
she drops the coins
into your palm.
on occasion
you'll linger
a little, to look
into her eyes,
tea brown with
little flecks
of gold. you
stare at her
grey bib
that covers up
her civilian
clothes, trying
to figure out
what kind of shape
she's in.
you wonder what
hair looks like
down, blonde
beneath that webbed
net. you
hate to pull
away some mornings,
but there is
always a car
behind you,
laying on his horn.
there is tomorrow
though. you'll never
get an e z pass. your
love is that strong.
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