written by owen on 2013-May-13.

When I sit at lunch in a cafeteria and a big batty girl sits at the empty table across from mine - things start to run through my mind. Things always run through my mind, I am not the kind of person to deny my mind such pleasures. I sleep to dream. Get Lucky.

She is a dark girl with short natural hair slightly twisted, dressed in full white short shorts and t-shirts on a Monday. She is average height, slowly sipping on a fresh cup of Jamaican fruit juice in a plain white cup - she is not in a rush as she watches the cricket report intensely on the television - I doubt she can hear anything over the gentle chorus of noise in the cafeteria.

She doesn't have a ring on her finger, probably a vegetarian-lesbian, model, "roots lady" involved with a man that sells weed for a living. Her handbag is medium, mostly empty with 3 dark earth tone lines running horizontally. You can never tell a book's cover. I always say if I ever fall in love again, my next girl will be nothing like my ex-girl. I must have made mistakes, so I will have no choice but to find a white girl. She takes one last sip of her juice, gets up and walks away - shorter than I remember.

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