Voodoo lady, state your name. Why don’t you talk to me? Come on baby, I’m not so bad. I know my breath stinks and my knees buckle when most people’s would stay firm. But I’ve got a nice laugh and some stories to tell you. I’m not looking for much in return. Just a little eye-contact.
It’s 1 AM. I want to go home and smoke what’s left of my consciousness away. This is my last chance of the night, and you already have your back to me. I scream your name over and over again until my throat hurts. I do two back flips and don’t even whisper “ta-dah.” I even try some of the lines I scribbled before I sat down next to you.
Still nothing. Why do I even want to talk to you in the first place? You’re mean, and I know what you offer me. Shame and a feeling a self-satisfaction that lasts for no more than 30 minutes. You promise me a life of variety, but I cannot recall ever enjoying that. At the same time, the ever-present lie of the consistent lifestyle was always in my face. The only thing I ever enjoyed that was consistent was alone-time. But even that was a lie, since I was never really alone for as I long wanted to be.
Maybe that’s why I’m so enamored by you, voodoo lady. You leave me alone for long enough, but I still know you’re there. I can talk at you for as long as I want and I’m never promised a response. You’re a consistent disappointment which compliments my loneliness. If you ever talked back, it might ruin things. Or maybe it would make things better, I guess it all depends on what I said to get your attention.
I follow you through bars and coffee shops all over town. You talk to the other guys, even some women. But not me. Am I too awkward? Is that it? Are you interested in older guys? Not too old, obviously. You’re as cold to the geezers as you are to me. It’s true, I’ve bonded with them over it.
I resent you, but looking at your form is addicting. Every curve is a reminder of my incompetence, and every turn of your head brings me hope. But I see your tastes and I want to change them. I want to improve you and evolve you in ways that you never thought possible. And I want you to change me. You have already. You make me wonder what comes next.
Old world values tell me to stay away from you, but new world values tell me there’s no point in doing anything. So I might as well sit here and wait for your response. I know you see me. Every time I even thinking about getting up to leave you turn and face me. You might not even smile, but your reaction is enough to encourage me to try again.
Voodoo lady, I have too much time to be impatient with you. I grow aggravated, get restless in my seat, maybe even go silent. But I will always be sitting next to you, smelling your cheap perfume and watching you sip your drink and clap your hands for others.
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