Chicken Soft Taco.

You made me more nervous than the job interview did...
don't you see something a little irky about that?
YOu just smile and nod at me.
Am I that annoying?
Or have I not made myself completely clear yet?
I see you walking down the street
and I think
"TACOS!"
but only after I think...
"... she's gorgeous."
So I wait until nightfall
and I go to Taco Bell
in high hopes that you'll be the one behind the counter.
Sometimes you're not there
and that's agony
because of how much I dig your little smile
and clear brown eyes sheathed in those wonderful glasses.
But sometimes you are there
and that scares the hell out of me
because I don't want you to know how lame I am.
I mean, who else but me
would sit at home amidst saucy wrappers and empty cheese containers
and write such things about the girl behind the counter
at Taco Bell?
I'd expect your voice to be higher and smaller and younger than it is.
It always surprises me at how mature and maybe even how old you sound.
Fuck.
I always just want to gather you up in my arms
and storm out the door towards a better life with you.
But I end up being a dork
and slinking out with a #1 combo, and sometimes a chicken soft taco.
Chicken... kind of fitting,
don't you think?

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