standing in line for coffee. That girl is standing in front of me. Talking to a thin blonde girl about how good her second child is. Years ago, back when I knew her, I don't know her anymore- it's been that long- the kinda long where you don't say "hi" anymore, or nod. The kinda long that has returned each side back to strangers- we both co-miserated(sp?) about our biggest dream- cheesy as it was. The difference is- years later- she had done it. A simple dream, really. Nothing no one would write up in any paper. But I am thirty plus now going home to an empty room. Choking an a thousand empty intrigues. Boys with heavy eyelids and hungry hearts, and nothing to put on the table. And I choke because I can't even pick these flighty things up. Last night a boy gave me the eye. Several, in fact. One, I squirmed and glanced away like his gaze held glass shards. Touch. Go. Walk away. The other I sang to the wall beside me till his net hit more fish. The third, I simply called his bluff. He kissed me. I tried to run. He threw me in a cab. Like a send off, till he disapated into the night. Today, I work in a blue uniform. Tomorrow is mother's day. My mother is a crazy old wound in me. So many ways she has carved me into this terrified, solitary, and scarred woman I am. So, I had this little dream- a simple dream- silly even. I just wanted to be for someone else what I never had. So, before I go back to work- i'll just recognize how that girl succeeded. And I have failed.