you can't tell anymore

she was pre-med,

but dancing her way through

college

at the Kitty Kat Lounge

near the airport, next

to the train depot

and county jail.

she was different than

the other girls.

beautiful with long legs.

but less trashy.

she didn't smoke

and had no tattoos,

or needles marks

that i could see,

and during her breaks she'd

be at bar

in her thong, watching

reruns of

Grey's Anatomy

on her phone.

it wasn't love, but clearly

there was deep admiration

and infatuation.

i finally made my move,

and sat next to her

at the bar,

milking my Shirley Temple,

because it cost

twenty-five dollars a pop.

she looked at me and smiled,

then put her hand out,

which was strangely larger

than mine, we shook,

then she said,

before we go any further,

i have to tell you, my name

used to be Stan,

but you can call me Star.