Ode To A Cashier

[Note from Al: I recommend you read the "preamble" below (in the previous post) ... either before or after reading the poem.]

I think I blew it.
I’m sure I did.
A bad impression, I’ll bet,
Is what I gave you
When I did phone.
(Now, I doubt a date I’ll get.)

I meant to say
I wanted to
Get together and chat sometime.
To get to know
Yourself, I’m sure,
Would be a pleasure sublime.

Instead, my words
Came out all wrong
And said not what I wanted them to.
So now I’ll try
To make them right.
(Now, if only the right words I knew!)

For two months now
Or thereabouts,
I’ve been doing my shopping each day.
I purchase milk
Or eggs or bread,
Then say, “Bye!” and I’m on my way.

Then, on the trip
Back home again,
I kick myself in the butt.
“You twit!” I say.
“You missed your chance.
What are you – some kind of nut?”

It’s just that I’m
Not often sure
What the best thing to say might be.
And, as it works out,
The best thing to say
Is rarely the thing said by me.

I’m getting off track –
I wanted to say
That I find you so very attractive.
(Darn, now I can’t think
Of a word to rhyme –
Guess my mind’s not sufficiently active!)

At any rate,
The point is this –
If we got to know each other,
You never know –
You might decide
That you want me to meet your Mother.

I’m getting ahead
Excuse me, please.
There’s no need to rush this, at all.
But, if you would like
To meet for a java,
Please feel free – anytime – to call.

I really will try
To make all my words
Come out in a logical way
And try not to let
Your beauty upset
The things I endeavor to say.

My name’s in the book –
My number, too.
I’ll wait at the end of the line.
And, if you decide
You’d like dinner instead,
That’s okay – I cook pretty fine!

Whatever your choice,
Please bear in mind
(And I really can’t stress this, enough)
I’m sure that you
Will like me, too,
Once you’ve heard all the lovable stuff.

- copyright Al Henderson

written Summer of 1986 or ‘87
- title added years later

Epilogue

So the hopeless (ie: pathetic) romantics are probably wondering how long the ensuing relationship lasted.

The more realistic folks might assume better.

I never heard from her.

Nor did I ever see her again!

I was so devasted and embarassed by the whole thing ... I switched to another store, altogether.

Fast forward a couple years.

I was training a small group of women for a regional bodybuilding competition. Turned out one of the gals was the older sister of that cashier.

"Really?" I asked. "So ... does she still have that poem?"

"No..." was the reply. "But my Mom does.
SHE just LOVES it!"

Go figger.