She almost looks like you.
The poor girl wouldn't talk to me
if she only knew.
She asked me if I'm stuck
or feeling out of luck.
I ordered up another round.
I didn't sip--I sucked.
I noticed in her eyes
she saw through my disguise
of beard and flannel button-down
and waiters used as spies.
Jackie, she won't do.
I lost her, just like you.
I hope Chicago treats you right--
an office with a view.
Currently reading:
"Poetry East: Numbers 84 & 85".
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