Shoot Me In The Eye

The weekends are strangely sweet at this time of day.

The Dreaded Handshake

I stood at the balconoy of the stairs.
I knew that car. I know that car wasn't parked at my place.
I looked out the peep-hole of the front door, and the sun was glaring so I couldn't tell who it was.
And it was.
.......
I stood out there, and he stepped closer and I still don't know if last nights' moon was full or waxing or waning, but either way, it was big, and it was bright, and he was stepping closer and I couldn't stop it, I didn't want to, and there he was.
There he was shaking my hand goodnight.
"The dreaded handshake."

"Oh gosh, please don't tell me this is the dreaded 'I hate you' handshake like you see in the movies."
"No...I was thinking of this more as..."

I was hoping he'd do it. Just a little bit closer.
And of course, I'm too bashful, so I had to wait for him.
And there it was, delivered to me, and I delivered it back.
The kiss.

I Miss Breezy-Anne already...

There's something going on tonight.