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le mec

sipping coffee alone at nine
i thought was rock bottom torture,
till i saw un mec,
a guy,  an angel.
across my table he sat,
a cup of coffee
also ordered.

"oh mon Dieu",
i thought "he's too gorgeous
siting alone
dans une café at nine o five."

then like my head had imagined,
he looked my way
flashing his million dollar smile.

and yes, my heart did melt
at the thought of this flirtingship.
for where in the world did this sort
of thing happen?
save for the universe, pararell,
dans mon rêve:
my secret hide out.

a second cup of coffee
i ordered,
bidding our harmless flirt
more time to
grandir.
a second cup ordered he too,
seemingly interested
as i was.

the third and fourth cups
of coffee came through.
and thought i how
fatigued it became;
this flirting.
time to call quits to our
eye locking
and get our hearts locking,
for the night.

then
le beau mec,
mon guy,
got up and kissed
another mec in French,
"tu me manques mon amour ",
dit-il à l'autre,
as they left hand in hand
leaving me gaping
at their voluptuous behinds.

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